


Walking a Different Path

by jairose



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Also nobody pairs Shane with like anyone? Whats up with that?, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Amy lives, Badass!Glen, But with badassGlen, Character Death, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Genderbending, Glen is a girl, I can't believe I didn't think to specify, I swear, Kind of a retelling?, Lori dies guys, Loris dead so, Nobody is Safe, Plot, Pregnancy, Slow Burn, Sophia Lives, SuperBadAss!Daryl, The group can't function because they are idiots, True to tv show language, adding some people, also, but there is a good reason, but you know, eventually baby asskicker will be born, female glen, manwhore Shane, okay fine I just want Glen to suffer a little more, people die, sorry people, tooooo many tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 16:21:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 137,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6431599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jairose/pseuds/jairose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glen used to deliver pizzas. Now, she is just trying to survive the apocalypse. It's a long road and she's never alone, but is being alone really the problem, or is it something else? Saved by a Dixon, trying to keep somewhat human in a land laid to waste by monsters; what's a girl to do? Unfortunately, the answer is almost always: Kill. (AU. Gender-Bent-Glen. Starts a little before Rick wakes up, about two weeks or so)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Little Thing Called Life

**Author's Note:**

> I've posted this on FanFiction and that is where I have been updating it - but I thought it would also be nice to post here... So - here it is. I'm just copying everything from FF and posting it all here, so if some of the author notes don't make sense I am sorry!  
> Once I reach chapter 15, it will have been completely updated to my current point of writing.

 

 

So, hello readers. New and old alike!

I have a confession, (which really isn't much of a confession) - I am new to writing "Walking Dead fan fiction"! **BUT** I have read enough of what is out there - along with the show itself - that I think I've got some of the characters worked out. And since this is an AU, I've taken some _major_ liberties with one of our favorite characters.

And well. The change from man to woman can not be understated. ^.^

I originally started writing this story because of a challenge to myself. I wanted to write a Gender-Bender ever since... well, forever really. And I thought, what better universe to use than the Walking Dead? Where literally everyone dies and nobody is safe!

And I love these two characters (Daryl and Glenn)! So I thought, why not?

And this is what I came up with! :P

 **Summary** : Gender-Bender AU. Glen is one of the survivors of the Zombie Apocalypse. Even almost a month in, it's getting harder to stay human. Especially when the rest of the world throws humanity in the dirty faster than Glen could load a gun.

 _ **\- Warnings**_ : Cursing. Like. A poop ton.  **-**

* * *

_A Little Thing Called Life_

* * *

Heart pounding, fingers fidgeting with a nervous-tick, eyes unable to stay on one thing for longer than a split second; these were just a few of Glen's symptoms of surviving the Apocalypse. There were more. There always were more, but these were the most prominent.

Insomnia was the newest one to add to Glen's ever growing list.

Her companion suffered from a few of her symptoms as well and then a few more of his own. Namely asthma, which made it a bitch to keep track of him without the Geeks keeping tabs on him as well. When he had a small attack, it was like the biggest 'I'm here' call ever. And it took Glen a few seconds debating if this time, it would be the last time.

Doug, the short fifteen year old ginger-haired kid, was standing behind Glen, rifle smashed against his chest and watching the door they had filed through with trepidation. His fingers were shaking but strong against his weapon, even if they weren't on the trigger. His usual smile was gone from his freckled face as he didn't dare take his eyes away from where they currently were. His breathing was not good.

Then again, when had it ever been?

Glen had found Doug in a bean field, starving more than she was and clutching a rifle to his chest. His clothes had been splattered with blood. Days old at that point. There were a few dead- **dead** people around him, shot twice in the head each. Each shot was so professional it was scary, which made Glen weary of the pitiful child. The kid had been crying, but had managed to level the gun at Glen and stutter out a warning. There was a moment of heart-to-heart "don't kill me" blurble — Then they'd been practically swarmed by Walkers, fought them off, and afterwards just kind of stared at each other. Cogs turning in each other's brain's.

It was a no-brainer to stick together after that. Since Doug knew how to handle a weapon, Glen was more than willing to deal with his age and imperfections. Doug had to put up with her as well, but she had stealth and efficiency on her side.

She was more of a boon than anything. Light on her feet, able to suss out a situation fast: she was ideal.

After the first meeting, as they had both been walking towards Glen's truck she'd 'borrow' a while back, Doug told her the significance of the two dead people behind him. His mother and father. It wasn't soon after that Glen grew to be... well, protective was too weak a word — Territorial and motherly was probably better. Doug barely knew what hit him in that regard.

That was almost a week ago. A lifetime ago.

Now. At the moment, Glen was sitting on the very top of a short and squat building, all doors she and her companions had found were closed firmly and quietly as soon as she had arrived in a flurry of movement and action. Even though there had only been two rickety old, steel doors, total; one couldn't be too careful. Especially with the body-munchers around.

Glen didn't even stop the shiver as she thought of the... _things_ that were now outnumbering humanity. Doug had a variety of names for them. Ranging from Walkers to Geeks and Zombies. And they followed humanity like a plague. At least in this city. The body count was surprisingly high for a city that a few miles back had boasted a population of five hundred and two. And it wasn't just this city. It was basically _every_ city now.

In fact, Glen wouldn't have dared step foot inside the tall building deathtrap of a village - if it wasn't for the fact that she and Doug were currently starving.

Doug was just a kid. And Glen was no hunter, or even semi-able bodied in providing for herself. Before the 'incident' she'd lived off of Pizza, Mountain Dew, and any fast food place within five minutes driving distance around her small apartment. If she even felt the need to eat that day.

"Dude."

Glen didn't have the heart to snap at her younger companion to shut up. The kid was even younger than she was... if not stupider as well. Then again... Glen had gone to college for however short a time it had been and then dropped out.

They shared stupidity.

"I know."

"That was a close one." Doug breathed, leaning his back against the railing next to Glen.

Glen gritted her teeth. A flash of memory hitting her along with the stench of just how close the Geeks had been to her and Doug before they'd high-tailed it away. "I know."

"Like... Really, _really,_ **really** \- "

" **Doug** ," Glen found herself snapping, running her hand through her hair to find that her ponytail had come undone. As she redid her hair, she whispered to herself, "I know how close it was."

And Glen really, really did.

From the first time the news stations had first announced a man jumping a woman in an alleyway and eating her, to the bite victims taking over the hospitals, to the crazier stories of the dead just rising at funeral homes... Glen may not have known just _how_ close everything was to ending, but she wasn't surprise _when_ it did.

At least, not too terribly. The dead walking was a shock, but Glen wasn't shocked with the outcome of **that** certain scenario. Humankind was just waiting for a signal to go bat-shit crazy on a good day. It was like a plotline to a terrible movie, except now that she had survived it - automatically put her in the running for first-person shooter and hero duty.

Which may or may not have anything to do with why she had taken Doug with her. No matter the liability he brought her.

"Sorry." Doug whispered, his weapon set against the railing as he hugged himself. His blues eyes staring out past her shoulder as he unfocused on the world around them. A dangerous habit, but one that kept the kid happy as he thought about the past. And if there was one thing Glen didn't want was a Debbie-downer waiting to die.

"Not your fault." Glen slurred, shoving her head into her forearm to stop the dizzying dehydration-headache. "I would just rather ignore the meat-munchers on the other side of the door for a moment, if you don't mind."

The dead started up their scratching and banging of the door, smelling the few living bodies on the other side.

"I don't mind." Doug whispered, but it sounded closer to a whimper.

 _What a mess_ , Glen thought to herself, looking down at the street smattered with the dead. The walking dead. There were about twenty bodies walking around, stumbling around and sniffing towards the rooftop. It wasn't the first time Glen thanked God that the town they found themselves in was so small. It could have been worse. After all.

The silence of her mind was broken when the other person spoke, whom Glen had almost completely forgotten about save for the fact he was taking up surface area on their roof.

"Ya know, this coulda been worse."

Glen was so close to snapping at him, too. Even if the stranger had saved them. The fact that they had had to be saved at all irked her. And by a hot red-neck nonetheless.

"Yeah, thanks for that insight, _Daryl_." Doug sassed like the teenager he was.

 _The day had started out so well, too._ Glen thought to herself with a moan, wanting to ram her head against the nearest surface. The boys were now arguing behind her on what the plan of action should be yet Glen could read the undertones of 'who's got the bigger dick?'.

_It had been going so well._

* * *

"Are you sure it's safe?" Doug pestered, rifle pointing out the rolled down window as he read the map sprawled across his lap. Stars, marker markings, and other random stickers littering the document in clusters which could have been any number of things. Cities. Roads. Hoards of the dead.

"Is anywhere safe?" Glen asked with a grumble, driving her way through the obstacle course of the highway. It was a pain, but it was an easy indicator of their position to danger. The closer to towns, the closer to roadblocks. Glen knew they would only be able to drive at most another five miles before either having to off-road it or get out of the car.

The thought didn't sit well with her, but they'd only been doing this a few days. Surely, it would get better.

Surely _they_ would get better at this.

"You're not that great at this whole 'reassuring' thing," Doug said, looking over at her with a pointed look. "You know?"

Glen shoved him with a good-natured snort, "Tell me something I _don't_ know."

And then it was silent for a few blessed moments as they reached the dreaded roadblock. It wasn't a roadblock in the sense that the police set it up. It was a roadblock in the sense that cars _could not_ pass. At least half a mile of cars were now between Glen and the city.

It was the longest line of cars they'd seen since Atlanta. Which had been almost three miles long coming out, with none going in.

Which made Glen's stomach flip and flop uncomfortably, but they needed food and water more than they needed comfort of mind at the moment. Unfortunately, this was the closest city for almost another twenty miles. Stomach over safety. Every time.

Glen looked up to see the sun setting already, still high in the sky but inching its way down.

They had six - maybe five hours of sunlight left.

Glen didn't like it, but it was do-able.

"Does this mean we're walking?" Doug asked with a wrinkled nose, head halfway out the window, staring at the daunting builds in the distance.

Glen shoved the parking break into gear and then snatched the keys out of the ignition. A preventative against thieves.

"No," Glen sighed, roughly wrenching the door open as quietly as she could. "It means we're going to be running."

* * *

True to form, Glen and Doug spent half their time running. From either building to building, tree to tree, car to car, or some combination of the three. They'd seen a few Walkers, but had learned early on that as long as they were silent, still, and far enough away - the stupid dead-things stumbled right on by.

It took about two hours walking and running, where it usually - in a sane and stable society - would have taken only a half an hour. And in that time, Glen had only seen four and a half zombies. The half zombie was the only one that saw them, but was in no position to get them. Half of its body was gone from the middle of its chest to the left side of its body. The growls and snarls it made as they passed, refusing to waste bullets, would probably haunt Doug's nightmares. Glen knew the poor kid had enough of them as it was.

Somehow, Glen just wasn't as affected by the Walkers as Doug was. Maybe it was because she'd never seen anyone she knew turned into a Geek... Maybe there was something wrong with her. Perhaps she just refused to see the stupid things as people.

It was a useful survival skill, fortunately. Everyone else's misfortune her gain.

Inside the city limits was silent, the wind whistling through the buildings the only sound. Glen held her pistol aloft, having taken it off a corpse with a missing head a few days ago. Doug was a little more confident wielding his rifle first as a baton and then as a long-range weapon second.

The silence of the city was unsettling. It was so unsettling that Glen started to experience her extreme symptoms of the apocalypse. Fidgety hands, eyes flashing every which way, and ears tuned for the first sign of a groan or moan.

They were also her symptoms of survival.

And really, it wasn't a bad thing. Her paranoia. It saved her life more times in the last few weeks than she could count.

* * *

When the groaning and moaning did end up happening, Glen and Doug had been in the local 'Mart, clearing out whatever was left of the canned goods, and medical supplies. The sound first started small, but Glen being on edge was quick to be in her listen first, act, and then 'see what happened afterwards' mind set.

She'd been grabbing medical supplies, basically snatching anything she saw and tossing it into her bag. Gause, pill bottles, pain reliever, medication, and whatever those tubes were for. Doug was on food duty.

It was such a time that her paranoia saved her life.

Because as soon as Glen grabbed the last bottle of Ibuprofen off the shelf, stuffed it deep into her bag, and turned: she was greeted by two Walkers at the end of the aisle. They didn't see her first, which gave her the precious moments to get herself running. It was a surreal experience. Being this close to dead and seeing their skin festering and falling off. She almost dropped her bag that was thrown over her shoulder in pure shock. Instead, already having heard a few of their footsteps and labored exotic sounds; Glen ran.

She ran hard.

"Doug!"

He'd been down the party aisle last she'd seen.

She was super thankful that, as soon as he heard her yell, he followed it as she ran by them and then they both doubled back to leave the building. The Walkers moaning behind them in a chorus of hell.

It had been a close one.

* * *

Running from the local 'Mart, it didn't take long for the Geeks to all show their ugly faces. After being found by two walkers, three soon followed, then five, then twelve, until there were more than was possible to escape. They came from alleys and doorways and windows. Streaming into the street like worms from mud. And unfortunately enough, Doug and Glen had started running in the opposite direction from where their truck was.

It was an 'oh crap' moment when they reached the middle of town to be greeted with a line of Walkers. Basically trapped between two sides of undead-bastards.

Thankfully, before they could start to really panic, they weren't stuck for long. Glen was fast thinking and even faster on her feet. Seeing an alleyway that was deserted she turned down it, hoping beyond hope that there would be an escape. Doug had then pointed out the fire escape attached to an old apartment building. The only problem was that it was too high off the ground for them to successfully get on.

But there was a dumpster close enough that one could possible —maybe — jump from dumpster to ladder.

Of course, Glen had only ever seen such moves off of TV and video games. Crazy or desperate people did these moves. And... Well. Glen now qualified as both of those. Already half-way to hero-ville, Glen decided the split-second as she ran down the alley that it was either now or never.

And Glen was always a now or never kind of girl.

"What are we-" Glen did not decrease her speed even as Doug stuttered next to her.

Glen took a running leap onto the side of the dumpster and hauled herself up with a swiftness that should have surprised her. Half way up the dumpster, Doug's face the picture of confusion as he slid to a stop to watch dumbfounded while Glen took half a second to breath —

Then leapt.

A split second in air and Glen started questioning why the hell she would ever do such a thing. And why should thought it was even a possibility. And why, why, why —

Glen had never had a second last as long as it did while in air from dumpster to ladder. Not even that time in seventh grade when that douche Noah had rebuffed her affections and the entire school yard had shunned her. Not ever. Until the rail-ladder basically collapsed one of her lungs as she hit it straight on. An 'oomph' leaving her mouth as she grappled to gain a hold. The feeling of getting hit by a car and also sliding off a cliff hit Glen all at once, but somehow - God knew how - she pulled herself up.

She felt a moment of pure elation and joy as she pulled off a move that... well, really was impressive for her. Having been a delivery girl for a Pizza place down the street from her apartment, Glen didn't do muscle or action. Plus she lived off of video games, too.

She didn't **do** real life drama.

It hit her, like a stack of pizza boxes: She just had.

Before the world could come off focus and become kilter-skewed by her adrenaline — she remember Doug.

A thrill of fear ran up her spine as she turned to see Doug staring dumbly up at her. Glen thrust her arm out frantically to Doug who was feet below her. _Oh god._ The dead were stumbling towards the fifteen year old at a stagger pace, slow enough that they had time but fast enough that it was barely enough. Slow but steady. When the Stumblers were at about seven feet away, Glen was able to gain purchase on Doug's wrist and with a grunt start to pull him up.

Glen was not a large woman. Nor was she tall.

She was a small thing, built, honestly, for speed and stealth now that she knew what you needed for such things. So getting Doug from the ground to the top of the ladder, or even the bottom rung, was hard. Like one of those 'impossible tasks in video games' hard.

But somehow, with the zombies grappling for Doug's sneakers and him being pulled down and then back up like a tug-of-war; Glen did it. Perhaps it was the fear of being alone that forced her hand to do that impossible. Maybe she just liked giving the finger to fate. Could it have been the adrenaline coursing through her body?

It didn't particularly matter as Doug lay in front of her, sprawled against the mesh floor breathing hard through his gaping mouth. Glen was just proud he hadn't become zombie chow.

"Holy shit," Doug stated, dazed as the dead tried to raise themselves up the ladder, too. Limbs flailing uselessly at the bottom rung. The rotting muscles and tendons didn't help and they all failed, one by one to reach the meat above them.

Glen grunted, never being much for words as she leaned against the wall, catching her breath. The world had ended and it basically equated to her having to be less of a socially awkward penguin with people. Her arms hurt like a bitch, though. Like a sunburn and being whipped repeatedly. And tired. Fatigued really.

Hoping she wasn't going to have to do that again anytime soon, Glen allowed herself to breath briefly. One death-defying stunt was enough for the month.

"That was something out of an action movie." The admiration was easy to hear in Doug's voice, but Glen pushed it away like many small 'pleasures' nowadays.

Glen almost chuckled, but the sounds of the dead were becoming more unbearable. And louder, meaning that within the next half an hour the rest of the town walkers would be swarming the building. Because of sound alone.

If her whole body didn't hurt, Glen probably would have been more aware of what was going on around them. Like a good survivor did.

"We might have a problem."

But she wasn't paying attention.

"What problem?" Glen asked, looking to see Doug's mouth dropped open as he stared straight upwards through the mesh of the fire escape.

It was then that Glen saw for herself what exactly was happening.

Sometime between the end of the world and now, a bomb must have exploded from the side of the building. Perhaps a gas leak. Perhaps fate giving the finger right back at her.

Because half of the fire escape leading up onto the top of the building was completely gone.

With it, their safety.

* * *

By some miracle or gift from God - there were no walking dead in the small room that had exploded. It had been a small little apartment. It's kitchen and living room one, separated by only a counter top. Though there had been people in it originally, it was clear they would not be bothering them. Measuring the amount of gore on the walls, Glen surmised there had probably been three people. They had probably died from the blast, but not counting on it, Glen kept her eyes peeled.

One run in with a swarm of Geeks was enough for Glen.

Going through the cabinets she found a few boxes of cereal, canned goods, and a spice rack. _Two out of three wasn't bad,_ she decided as she started tearing the boxes apart so she could just grab the bags within.

Doug, having more luck with checking out the small apartment called out quietly, "I can't - Hey, come check this out!"

He was over by a large cabinet, staring curiously into a hole blown in the side. It was a pretty old looking thing, torn almost in half. Glen took another good look around, dropped the bags, and then went over to where Doug was kneeling.

"What is-" Glen began as she stopped by Doug's kneeling form. "Holy shit."

In the cabinet, or what was left of the cabinet, were guns.

And not small, portable guns, either. There was an assortment of rifles and shotguns, with ammo out the wazzu. It was enough that Glen was practically speechless. There was enough here for at least two people, with enough ammo to take out the Walkers in Atlanta.

 _How hadn't anybody found this?_ Was Glen's first thought, follow immediately by: _Who cares?_

They spent the next half an hour going through the guns and packing away ammo in gun-bags they had found conveniently at the bottom of the cabinet. Thankfully Doug was a big enough kid, lanky more than muscular, that he could carry two bags, plus his backpack. Meaning that they could get away with more guns than they had thought were even left in the world.

And ammo.

Glen felt like crying as she sat against the wall, forgetting momentarily that they were trapped. They hadn't had this much good luck since they'd found each other. A part of Glen felt intensely suspicious, but threw that side of her away as she basked in the good fortunate they were now enjoying. Even surrounded by all the danger as they were.

"Poor things." Doug stated as he stared at the splatters on the walls. His eyes were glued to the remains as he tugged on his sleeve nervously. Who knew if touching the fluid would get you infected?

"Better them than us." Glen sighed, hoisting her bags up. Ignoring the dead-fluid on the walls in favor of keeping her eyes and ears peeled. "And besides, they left us with a small gold mine —"

The moment was cut short as a door creaked open somewhere. The echo made it almost impossible to pinpoint where the sound had originated from, but the fact that the sound had existed at all made Glen stop entirely.

Glen and Doug froze with the bags over their shoulders and backpacks tightly strapped on. Doug had his rifle close at hand, but didn't dare move. The pistol Glen had all but forgotten about was somewhere in her pant's elastic. Focusing on the feeling she felt it on her right side, right above her hip bone. They barely breathed as they waited for the next sound to come which would determine what they would be doing.

They expected a Walker. At least one, if not more.

What they got instead was a red-neck man, cross bow drawn as he whirled through the door in a formation that was almost militant in nature. His feet were swift as he kicked the door shut behind him all in the same motion before he saw them and leveled his weapon towards them.

It had happened so fast that Doug and Glen hadn't even had their hands on their own weapons themselves before the man had got them in his sights.

"Don't even think 'bout it."

Glen froze, hearing for the first time the gravelly voice coming from the man in front of her. Doug, being a hot-headed kid wasn't as quick to stop moving. An arrow buried itself in the wall between Glen and Doug's head, and before Glen could even slow her beating heart the red-neck had another slotted in its place. Doug's face was the picture of fear, sweating profusely and eyes wide with whites showing, as his hand fell away from his gun.

"I said," The man continued on without even a rise in his voice. "Don't even think 'bout it."

Seeing Doug look so shaken, she knew she had to stop the random stranger before he did any more damage. Glen was not prepared for human interaction of the violent kind, excluding the walkers, so she tried her best with what she was given.

"Alright. Alright." Glen tried, moving her hands from her hips. "Listen, we don't want any trouble."

The crossbow was suddenly pointed in Glen's direction and she froze. "The hell you don't, _chink_."

White hot fury that Glen had almost thought she was incapable of feeling warmed in her gut.

 _The hell did this hillbilly know?_ Her family was new to the country by only **two** generations. They were citizens of the united states as much, if not more, than this idiot. She'd already had to live with her skin color and family heritage in high school and what little college she had gone through. She didn't need it at the end of the world.

"I'm _**Korean**_." Glen found herself snarling in anger, standing up as she did. "So, _fuck you_ very much. And don't even get me started on how derogator-"

A snarl came from her left. She'd been so caught up in the man in front of her, that listening and being paranoid had momentarily escaped her.

At that same moment an arrow went flying.

* * *

Things were pretty tense after that.

The snarl had come from a Walker from the next room. A hole in the wall really. And they streamed through like a line of ants.

There ended up being four walkers in the room that afterwards was found to be the bathroom. All in various states of rot and falling apart. Two of them had been quickly dispatched by their attacker, and Glen had grabbed her own weapon to shoot the closest one. Doug followed, somewhat shakily.

Then, as soon as the walkers were dead and unmoving, for good, Glen and Doug whirled to point their weapons at the strangers face. With their guns already drawn, it was a little easier to level the playing field with the crossbow wielding hillbilly.

The fact that there had been another Walker behind them didn't help their case much, though. In fact, it probably weighed it down.

The hillbilly red-neck, after shooting the dead through his eyeball in a surprising display of skill; had cursed, looked them over, cursed again, and then introduced himself somewhat tensely as Daryl.

Nothing more. Nothing less. Glen was the second to lower her weapon, and Doug shakily followed.

It was clear the man didn't trust either of them, but Glen attributed that to the fact that they outnumbered him and had pointed guns at each other. They had followed with their names as well, giving just as good as they got. The fact that Glen had been called a 'chink' still pissed her off, but she usually let by-gones be by-gones.

"What the hell are you two even doin' here in Conyer?" Daryl asked as he flung his crossbow to his back. Even without his weapon on his front, he was plenty dangerous. Something told Glen that. Perhaps it was the fact that the wife-beater left little to the imagination and his muscles stood out lean and _there_. He had the body of what Glen would assume a lion wrestler must have needed.

Glen faintly thought to herself, _Conyer is the town's name? Damn, We're closer to Atlanta than I originally thought._ The sign had only posted of population, the name covered in graffiti. If she had known it was only a few miles to Atlanta she never would have stopped.

Death by starvation or not.

"Supplies." Doug grunted before Glen could give a more suitable response. Looking between the narrowed eyes of her two companions she quietly understood what was happening. _Oh no,_ She was not going to be dealing with a male-pissing match. Wasn't gonna happen. _Not today,_ her mind snarled.

Daryl was apparently on the same wave-length because he barely gave Doug a second glance as he looked to her. It was clear that she was the leader of their twosome. "Did the line of cars comin' out of the city not warn ya?"

Fed up with the day and its crappy-ness, Glen snapped back, "Didn't they warn you?"

There was an almost smile pulling at the corners of Daryl's scowling lips. "Touché."

Then silence. Which made it a lot easier for Glen to get a good look at their 'savior'. He was a tall guy, all wiry muscle and scruffy. He looked as if he hadn't bathed long before the dead had started rising. But he had a kind of... charm. If one were to ask Glen what she thought it was, she wouldn't be able to put it into words.

One thought stood out.

"Which way are you going?"

Daryl was immediately distrustful. His hand twitching as if to go towards his cross-bow on his back. "Why?"

"Better three than two." Glen felt she needed to at least try. Dangerous as the man was... he was human. And as far as Glen was concerned, that made him A-OK in her book. Perhaps not trustworthy yet, but... he wasn't dead. Racist but not dead.

Daryl followed her thought process and whipped his head towards her. His eyes wide in disbelief. "Like hell it is."

"When the dead outnumber you ten to one?" Glen posed, watching the man close up slowly. "I think another person evens the odds a little, don't you?"

Daryl was silent, his neck tense and his tendons standing out starkly. Glen almost thought he was going to hiss and stalk away to hid under a couch.

"Fine." He spat, looking towards Doug carefully. "But - Just till we get outt'a the city."

* * *

After that... it was pretty cut and dry.

Walkers had been swarming the lower levels, making it impossible to get out of the building without sacrificing someone. Daryl offered up Doug, which didn't win him any prizes, but other than that: they had no options except to go up.

Which, yes, was a death sentence.

Which made it even worse when a swarm of about ten Walkers chased them up the stairs. Cemented their decision. The walkers in the building were also better preserved and could almost jog after them. Barely giving them enough time to shut and lock the door before they fell upon the strong piece of steel. The groans and moans of their wanton brains asking for meat.

And that was how they managed to get caught up on a roof with no way to get down and only each other for company. The walkers were surrounding the building and none of the adjacent rooftops were close enough to get to. The rooftop they were on was bare of any useful material sans what they brought themselves.

"Fucking great." Daryl snarled, stomping over to the opposite side of the roof. Making Doug skitter closer to Glen.

"It could be worse." Glen tried to lighten the mood. Only succeeding in getting Daryl's eyes harshly on her. "One of us could have gotten killed."

There was a moment of silence and then the redneck started cursing up a storm again.

Doug looked at her thankfully, but weakly. Glen guessed the days activities had worn him out.

Glen had to agree, even as she looked at the newest member of their rag-tag group.

At least one of them hadn't died.

* * *

Enjoy? Please review!  
There is a little monster in my tummy that loves reviews. He also, when happy, allows me to write faster! So please, feed the Review Monster. He's hungry.

:D


	2. A Little Thing Called Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They escape. Something unexpected happens.

Sorry for the long break between chapters. I have no clue when I will write. Just not really feeling up to it this month :/

Enjoy tho!

* * *

**_A Lttle Thing Called Death_ **

* * *

"I'm not going to be the bait." Doug said, looking between Glen and Daryl with something akin to indignity. The redhead was sweating like a dog in the sun more than either Daryl or Glen thought anyone was capable of.

And Glen knew her aunt Karen.

"Glen, tell him I'm not going to be the —" It was halfway between pleading and whimpering. Glen was tempted to go along with Daryl because this was the most pathetic Doug had ever been in front of her. He was like a kicked puppy.

But Glen had to be the adult in this relationship. Rolling her eyes, she protected Doug. "You're not going to be the bait, Doug."

Daryl protested almost immediately. "He's the logical choice, china-woman!"

Ignoring Daryl's affinity for being a racist as well as sexist was hard but Glen managed.

"What is logical about a sixteen year old drawing the Geeks away?" Glen demanded, crossed arms in a fashion so similar to her mother she quickly tossed her arms away from herself in disdain. "Let's just. Let's think about this —"

"What's to think about?" Daryl stated, flatly. "You're useful, he's not. You wanna die because of sum stupid loyalty issue? Cause I don't. So, we gotta choose."

 _Gahh!_ Glen internally screamed. _So flippin' infuriating._

Every plan he had come up with had involved sending Doug out on some suicide mission. Either by drawing the zombies off through way of his running through the town, or by cutting himself and sitting behind a closed door, and even — Glen shivered at this — just trying to jump across the huge divide between buildings and "hope for the best".

Whatever reason, Daryl made it his personal mission to make life hell for Doug. She had to guess it was because he had red hair, but that still didn't account for anything. He hadn't offered her up for bait. Which confused the ever loving shit out of Glen. They'd only known each other for half a day.

If that. And the man was already picking sides.

Plus the redneck would be leaving after they'd safely made it out of the city. Doug alive or dead shouldn't have any weight on the situation. It pissed Glen off to no end to know that Daryl wasn't just going to drop it, either. He was like a pitbull with a steak, stubborn and pig-headed. Daryl should have dropped it awhile ago, but probably enjoyed getting a rise out of the younger kid.

Doug did proceed to flush and look at Glen anxiously whenever it came to a suicide mission, so Glen had to give Daryl points for being a considerably accurate douche-bag.

On the not so bright side: Glen was still exhausted. Probably because she had only slept four hours. It was a normal number of hours for her now since the world ended, but it still took its toll. With the bottom floors being overrun with Walkers it was unsurprising that they had ended up sleeping on the roof. Daryl had stayed up on watch for the first four hours - most likely not trusting them - and she had taken the last part of the night when the redneck had roughly shaken her and demanded that she "pull her weight". She chose to stay awake until the morning and let Doug sleep.

Which she got chewed out for in the morning by Doug himself. Great. She did not particularly care his opinion on the matter. He was a teenage boy. He didn't get an opinion unless it was life or death. Especially when Doug had awoken, he had looked even worse for wear that the previous day. Which worried Glen like no other.

Doug was the only one she had left. It was worth a little bit of suffering to see him well, if not happy.

Daryl only watched their interaction from the edge of the rooftop, keeping his distance even as they all ate a little bit of breakfast. Because of the awkwardness of their newest person present; they ate in silence, occasionally checking each other out. The fact that Daryl had a gun didn't sit well with Doug. Glen didn't really mind it, but could understand the kid.

Glen didn't blame him because Daryl hadn't stopped threatening him. Which made it easy to look over at him and see just how bad he was doing.

Doug didn't look so hot after they had finished their meager portions, but he and Glen had not had anything to drink for a while now. Their last bottle of water had gone dry yesterday. And the fact that they hadn't found anything to drink in town also made it that much worse. Glen had read about dehydration killing people, but she also knew that if they became really desperate - she knew of a stream close by.

She would drink from the disgusting pond water only if it was necessary and she was desperate. Like... Dying desperate.

Daryl was silent. He didn't talk much. Glen actually had only heard a few words from him and they consisted of his name, the fact that he was only staying with them for safety, and to bark low-commanding orders at them. Or argue about their next plan of action. When the first few times she had tried to start a conversation had garnered no response other than a few grunts or blank stares, Glen had given up trying to talk to him about the 'real' world.

Which was why after they'd eaten, it had been to a surprising array of non-stop bickering over how they were going to get off the roof. Glen had given her two-cents the first few times, but it was clear that this was somehow turning into 'man' territory. As if the two boys needed to preserve their testosterone in a world literally filled with violence and death.

Which led to Glen only shooting down the most absurd of the two's ideas.

And there were a lot. Mostly dealing with the suicide missions, but quite a few dealing with unethical things. _Really_ unethical things. Which Glen refused to even name.

The world had only just ended. Give her time. She had time to lose her mind.

"I don't see why not." Daryl grumbled, stretching away from the sunlight that was starting to appear over the horizon. Stuck on the fact that he couldn't send Doug out to die. "Not like he's gonna survive long."

_Oh for the love of —_

"What part of three is better than two, didn't you get?" Glen sighed, rubbing her temples. She still had not had anything to drink for the past twelve or so hours. Being on the roof did not help that at all, either. Sunshine plus dehydration makes for a pissed of _anybody_.

"That' part where we keep the liability?"

"You're not even _technically_ part of our group," Glen claimed with a snarl. "You said so yourself. You're leaving once we get out of town. So why should I get rid of the only person in my group?"

Daryl raised his eyebrow as she ranted. "Don't make him any less useless."

It was enough to make Glen throw her hands in the air and stomp away. A few feet to the other end of the roof.

Glen rose to Doug's defense as she turned back around, composing herself. "He's not useless,"

"Oh ya?" Daryl questioned, throwing out his hand to the now speechless Doug. "Tell me one thing tha' ginger's good at."

 _What was with the red-neck and derogatory terms?_ It was like he couldn't live without breathing one out.

"His name is Doug, not 'the ginger' kid. And he does plenty."

Except you know... hunting, laundry, coordination, or any real intelligence. Alright so yeah, Doug was useless, but he was a kid. He was useless on principle. It was kind of like a baby... it had the potential to be great. Not just pop out of the womb that way.

"We're together til we get out of the city, Daryl," Glen declared. "We can figure out a way to get down without —"

Just as tension was rising and Glen was sure Daryle was about to cut a bitch: An alarm went off.

Everyone froze. Not tag-freeze freezing, but immobile, breathing stopped and eyes wide and staring.

The sound was like both a shriek of a harpy and a call for joy. Angels singing as they drowned. Hope and ridiculousness all wrapped in one package.

Everyone on the rooftop tensed and listened in disbelief as the car alarm sounded with a rhythm that had almost been lost in this pre-modern world, somewhere in the distance like a danger call. One at first, then two. Had cars been bumped or something? Were there others around? Had the alarm been a delay from before?

None of that mattered as the Geeks became aware of the sound. Hyper-aware.

The Walkers heard it, all of them perking up, starting up a groan straight from hell and stumbled-walked towards the sound. In one wave, all of the Geeks who had been around them left. Following the lead to something much more interesting than a day old smell of fresh meat and pounding hearts.

Somewhere in Glen's confused mind she knew this was it. Now or never. Her feet were frozen to the floor. Her heart was pounding. And her symptoms of the apocalypse were rip-rearing and ready to go. But she found the strength, the sheer-stubborn-ass born from surviving and killing the undead to speak into the roof-top.

She whispered. "We gotta go."

Since she was facing away from the wind, it got caught up into the breeze, but it was clear the other's heard her.

Nobody moved. Daryl out of cautiousness and Doug because Doug was Doug. Deer in the headlights and everything. Hand holding his gun too tight, and shaking.

They didn't have time for Doug to be a child, nor for caution. "Now!"

In a second, the boys were finally following her words. Bags thrown over shoulders, weapons held at the read, and prepared. They had not unpacked anything, because that would have just been plain stupid. So it was just divvying up who was going to carry what. Which was not hard because they already had their packs. Except they shared with Daryl the extra bag of guns.

The look Daryl had given Glen as she pushed the extra bag into his hands was almost priceless, and she wished her camera still had battery to capture the moment.

And yes. That took a lot of faith that he was not just going to up and run away, but at this point - it was not going to hurt them any. A few guns they could spare. No problem compared to a person who could quasi-protect them.

They had their bags across their backs and standing near the door in seconds. As Glen repositioned a shoulder strap, she listened intently for sounds on the other side of the door. It was silent, but that did not mean they were clear. Geeks occasionally fell into a coma like silence, and stood in corners to mope about their stupid lives.

Daryl had never been Military as far as Glen could tell. His steps spoke of discipline, but his eyes spoke of flightiness. He was much too wild and untamed to ever have survived in the United States Armed Forces. Which was both a blessing and a curse. Because Daryl was capable. He knew his way around a gun and a hunt.

But he was also bat-shit crazy and unpredictable.

And that may or may not have had any weight to why Glen was ultimately unsurprised that Daryl threw open the door and went first down into the maw of darkness and flickering bulbs kept going from a generator too stupid to understand the end of the world. Glen followed next and, for some reason, Doug hobbled behind. Glen, worried shot him a concerned look but he smiled reassuringly.

"I just twisted my ankle, G. Didn't notice till today." It was almost accepted that use of nicknames meant nothing was serious. "Just shot a Geek, G," and "Don't worry so much, G." Made the world a little bit of a better place. Adrenaline could work wonders for escape plans.

Glen pushed that thought out of her mind as she turned on all her survival-symptoms. Allowed them to come to the forefront of her body.

Just as they had predicted of the Walkers, the place was zombie free. Not a one had stayed behind. It was not the first time that Glen was happy that the Walkers were dumber than a flock of pigeons, all vying for the next shiny toy to come around. But it was the first time she was grateful that someone else was going to get the brunt of the beasts attention.

Getting out into the open air of the town was always a scary moment. The first step from the semi-safety of a building to open ground was... well, terrifying. It was desperation that lead to leaving the safety of a building, and it was all or nothing. It grabbed Glen's heart as they peered out of the doors and un-smashed windows. It said something that even Daryl hesitated on the way out.

Then again, as long as Glen had known and watched Daryl she could honestly admit that he was not stupid in any shape or form.

Except from what the SAT might require.

As soon as they were outside, it was running. Non-stop if they could. As far and as fast in the opposite direction from the car alarm that was still blaring its sound to the world. Doug was considerably slower, but for some reason Daryl stuck it out. Jogging instead of all out running. And occasionally looking back at them.

Glen guessed it was because they were his literal backup. Watching his back as he watched the front, but she could not be sure. She was just glad that Daryl had kept his promise. Instead of running off at the first sign, he kept with them in the city.

Afterwards was a different matter.

"It's quiet." Daryl whispered as they stopped behind a car to catch their breath and make sure the coast was clear. They were almost to the outer edges of the highway. The beginning of the road block right in front of them. Glen could see the cars from where they had come from.

Home free had never sounded so good.

Glen heard the ' _too quiet_ ' that Daryl wanted to voice. Glen didn't quite understand why Daryl hadn't spoke it. Too quiet was much better than 'just quiet enough'. She got that.

And then Glen understood.

The car alarms that had been beeping and blaring were now silent. And the world around them was mimicking it. The birds were silent, and there were no sounds except their breathing and beating hearts. The term ghost-town came to mind, but Glen threw it to the side. If there were ghosts, she wanted no part of that.

Walking dead were enough for one lifetime.

"We gotta move." Glen grunted rising to go around the car, only to be greeted by Daryl grabbing her by her wrist and pulling her back down. She landed against his chest with a huff, before ultimately trying to squirm away.

"No." He whispered, looking over her shoulder and the car, ignoring how she was trying to get away from him. "Look."

And Glen did, but she was also very, very aware of Daryl. And damn. She'd known that he had muscles, but being this close and feeling it was a very different story. He was as fit as a bear but slightly safer to be around. And the hunter-redneck definitely had abs. _That_ Glen could feel for sure.

Tearing her mind away from how comfortable it really _should not_ have been to be against Daryl, she listened and watched to where Daryl pointed.

There was a Walker, stumbling around as if it did not even know what was going on. It seemed aggravated, but both Glen and Daryl could not tell why. Its actions were stiff, but much faster than any Walker had been before. And it's back was to them.

And it was breathing.

Doug was sitting against the side of the car, not even looking over the window. And he was shivering. Probably frightened. Glen ignored him, in favor of watching the erratic and strange Walker. A walker she had never seen the likes of before.

And then, the walker did something that made Glen freeze against Daryl's chest.

The thing... talked.

"-hit - fucking, -" Deep breathing almost close to tears. Far enough away that it seemed like it was just growls. "- can't... believe they -"

The Geek, now somehow not, stumbled and fell to the ground, groaning. Flesh was already falling off its body, but it still somehow kept most of its motor functions working.

"Someone," The thing cried pitifully and weakly, moaning into the ground. "Help."

And suddenly it was not a Walker to Glen. It was a person. Heart clenching, it was easy to feel for the poor thing.

They needed her help. She tried to climb off of Daryls chest, wanting to help the thing.

"Don't even think' o' it," Daryl growled, tightening his hold on her wrist. "Thing's dead."

Glen froze, realizing exactly where she was. Pressed this tightly against a man who had only hours ago been threatening them, then saving them.

"Dude, we can't just leave him," Glen hissed. "We have to help him!"

Daryl only held her tighter as if stopping her from doing the most utterly dumb thing ever. "Don't mean nothing."

"Maybe, but Glen," Doug agreed, looking over at the man in the center of the road as well. "He looks like he's on the verge of death."

"Probably was bit," Daryl confirmed, confusing both Glen and Doug.

Doug beat Glen to the punch. "What does being bit have to do with anything? Is it rabies?"

Glen felt Daryl tense behind her, as she finally was able to shimmy out of his limping hold to turn and look at him. Ignoring, for the moment, the small cries of the man dying in the street.

"Are ya both dumb?" Daryl asked with barely concealed shock. "You get bit — you turn into one of them things. Same as dying by 'em."

"That can't be," Glen gaped, blinking.

But it did.

Now that Glen thought about how an infection usually started, it all made sense. That made a lot more sense than just the dead rising because they could. She _had_ taken medical school serious when she had been there. It had just been a very stressful month. She forgot things... She was allowed that.

Daryl looked both of them over before hitting his head against the car.

"Aww hell," Daryl groaned, clutching his bow to his side. "Don't tell me one of ya got bit and didn't tell me."

Before he could continue that thought and run off, Glen stopped him.

"No, we didn't," Glen snarled, turning back to the man in the street. He'd stopped moving as much and was now just kind of lying there. It broke her heart, watching a man die and being unable to do anything. Especially in the middle of a street, alone and broken.

Nobody deserved that.

Her resolve strengthened. Thinking quickly she made her choice. Before Daryl or Doug could think to grab her again she rose and walked out to the man in the street. As she got closer, ignoring the whispers of "get back here" and "ya dumb bitch, yer gonna get killed!" she noticed the smell first. It was like a latrine, mixed with death. Then she saw his face. Matted hair, and sunken eyes.

He looked dead and Walker-ified.

"Hey."

The man barely moved, but he turned his head to look at her. A fraction of an inch, but just enough to see her.

"Angels are... asian?" He asked, his mouth gaping open. Drooling blood.

It was a disgusting sight. Blood was pooling from his mouth and nose onto the ground, and his eyes were wide and afraid. But also accepting. He knew he was going to die, and nothing Glen would be able to do would save him.

Good. Even footing it seemed.

"I'm not an angel." Glen answered quietly.

"Then... Who-who're... you?" The man slobbered, closing his eyes as if the fact that she wasn't an angel just put him off his lunch.

"Glen." She found herself whispering, even as she knelt next to the putrid man. His skin was boiling and pussing. Hair falling out and muscles spasming.

Glen found herself asking, "What's your name?"

It took the man a moment.

"Tom." He whispered, before coughing violently, not even trying to lessen the blows that it was doing to his lungs.

"Hi Tom." Glen noted, saying the dying man's name out loud to make it more real to her. "I'm just gonna sit here with you. That okay?"

Tom just barely nodded.

Glen sat next to him, pulling her knees up as she did. Fully paranoid still of the Walkers coming after her, but sitting as quietly next to the dying man as she could. It had been a while, but Glen did have her beliefs. And one of them, if she could help it, was going to be upheld.

Nobody deserved to die alone.

It was perhaps luck that no Walkers came while the man died. Or it was maybe more.

Glen managed to stay by the man's side, simply offering her comfort without any sort of touch or contact, for five minutes. It seemed like longer. Like forever. Daryl and Doug stayed behind the barrier of the car, guns and crossbow probably prepared to shoot either her or the Tom if it came down to it.

But Glen would survive the encounter.

Tom was not as lucky as she was. He had lost the ability to speak, whether it had been from his infection or loss of blood, and was now just kind of laying there. Eyes hooded, near death, but his heart still beat. For Glen, that was enough to stay close at hand, knees pulled up to her chin but there.

Glen wondered, for the next few sparse seconds what this man Tom had been like. Before all of this had happened. Had he been a politician? Married? A widow? A soldier? His clothes were plain enough, but Glen knew that meant little. This man had had a life, and now he was going to have a death. And it was going to be alone.

Even Glen could not stop that. She could stay with the body as it died, but Tom was already gone. She knew that. She just prefered to stay with him until his last breaths.

Not many other people were going to get this opportunity. Not many had died with any kind of dignity. If she could give that to one person...

It would be worth it.

When Tom stopped breathing entire, his whole body simply stopping its movement with a giant shuddering jolt; Glen knew it was time. There was no momentous occasion. One second he was in pain, dying — the next he wasn't. She stayed sitting next to him for another few seconds, before breathing deeply and rising.

The man Tom was now dead. In his place was a ticking time bomb. And no matter if Daryl's bite theory was true - this man had overstayed his welcome on this world.

Glen felt absolutely no remorse as she shot him once in the head. There was an empty pit in her heart that had opened up and swallowed any remorse she might have been able to garner. It was a more fitting end then him coming back as a Walker. That much Glen could assure. She'd done her best, and now she couldn't say she was going to feel sorry. Though there was a hollow feeling in her chest as the shot echoed around the buildings, reverberating into her frame.

"Let's go." She whispered to the boys as she shoved her backpack back onto her body and readied her gun. Daryl must have heard her, or else he was just much more attuned with her than she had thought. She looked behind simply to see if Doug was alright.

As she saw Doug, limping as he was, she was simply glad he was alive. That she could feel without weeping. He was alive. Not dead. At least, not anytime soon. Perhaps never. Not lying on the ground with a bullet in his brain. Not blubbering blood as he tried to say his last words. She hadn't had to repeat the procedure with him. Which made her heart exceedingly glad.

As Daryl walked by her, his face set in a thoughtful expression, Glen felt the need to apologise for endangering their lives; the only way she knew he would accept.

"I would have done that for you, too. Y'know." Glen apologized as she fixed her backpack.

Daryl was unimpressed. "What? Shoot me? I'm sure glad."

"No."

He grimaced at her, some kind of 'not understanding' in his eyes. But he wasn't an idiot, and he understood her meaning. "You don't even know me. Or him. Didja?"

"Doesn't matter." She smiled to herself weakly. "It's us or them. Us against the world. And whether you like it or not... You're one of us."

Daryl didn't respond.

"Group or not."

When the Walkers had gotten to where Glen had shot Tom: They were long gone.

It took an hour walking to get to the truck. The supplies were still there, and the truck had not been broken into. Which Glen took as a good sign and also a depressing signal. Were there not enough people around? Was it some moral obligation? They had a truck yes, but where were the people?

Doug's limp had gotten worse, but when asked about it; he waved Glen off like she was an annoying mother hen. Glen left him alone only for the fact that he didn't look all that bad. At least, not from the standpoint of him having a badly sprained ankle.

Daryl was a different matter.

Glen stood next to the truck before turning around, her bags still on her back, to Daryl. She wanted to say thanks and all that good stuff. Try and convince him to stay, but he was already ahead of her.

"Good luck." Daryl drawled before turned away to begin his trek into the woods.

"Whoa, wait!" Glen called out, completely shocked as the stranger that they still didn't know all that well, just walked off. She almost had expected him to try something more. Like steal from them.

"Where will you go?"

"I got places to be." He called back, not once looking from his path. Bag of extra guns over his shoulder. "And we're out'a the city. Ain't got no use for each other any more."

Within five minutes, he was gone over the forest line.

 _So much for finding more survivors to hang out with_. Glen grumbled to herself, tossing the bags into the very back after unlocking the door. It was Daryls choice to leave and she always respected free-range choice. Glen just thought it was a very stupid choice to go off into the forest, armed with a crossbow and a bag of guns. Alone.

"Forget him," Doug spoke for the first time in almost a half an hour. "He's just trying to survive like us, I guess."

Glen looked over from the drivers side to see Doug leaning heavily against the trucks passenger side door, already in the truck. She'd been pretty caught up in her own pity party that she'd forgotten about Doug's ankle.

"How's the sprain?" She asked, with no-small amount of compassion.

Doug shifted, wincing. "I donno."

She raised an eyebrow as she gathered herself up into the cab. As she started the truck up, she questioned, "How can you not know?"

"I just don't." Doug stubbornly refused to look at her, head against the cool glass of the window.

Entirely unsatisfied with the answer, but knowing that they'd been through alot; Glen backed up the truck to turn it around and drove away from the city. If Doug didn't want to talk about it, it really wasn't her business to pry.

But watching the rearview mirror as they left the city was bittersweet. There had been hundreds of dead walking. And yet...

There were still some people left.

Daryl proved it.

Perhaps he was smarter staying away from crowds, like Glen was looking for.

When they made camp about an hour later. A long ways away from the city in a cornfield, Glen finally sat down with Doug. To try and help him with his ankle that he was still complaining about. He'd done so the entire car ride.

Only, he hadn't wanted her help.

"I'm fine!" Doug repeated for the tenth time. "Just... leave it alone, okay? It's going to heal. "

"Doug," Glen tried, placatingly. Way beyond tired. "Just let me see your _damn_ leg before I beat you. Kay?."

Stubbornly, he held out like a petulant child. "No."

"I can't help you if you don't let me, Doug." Glen growled, throwing her hands in the air.

"I'm fine." He insisted, but Glen could see he wasn't. She'd seen how he had deteriorated during the car ride.

Doug had slowly gotten a sallow and pale look to his face, the longer they drove. At first, Glen had suspected his leg, but now that it was starting to affect his temperature and his appetite; she knew it wasn't. It could be some kind of flu, and if Doug didn't let her check him out; he could die. He would leave her. There were no hospitals left to help. Without the right medication, Glen couldn't do anything for him.

What confused her was why he wasn't letting her help him.

He knew these truths just as well as she did. If he died, she would be alone. So why he was being stubborn over a life-or-death, simple decision, Glen hadn't a clue.

Glen decided that being firm and no-nonsense was the only way to get him to open up.

"I just want to help. I can't help if you —"

Apparently Doug couldn't stand it anymore, because he broke into tears. Shocking Glen into dropping the gauze she had been holding.

"Okay! Okay!" She soothed, taking a step back. "I'm sorry, alright? You can take care of your leg —"

She hadn't thought she'd pushed him that hard. Maybe the Walkers had really messed with his psyche? Had he had any nightmares? She didn't remember him tossing and turning at all...

"I can't!"

Blinking in confusion, she had to ask, "What do you mean? You said it was just —"

"I just- What Daryl said about the bites- and-and- how-" Whatever he was saying was lost in his sobs.

What he had said gripped Glen tightly around the heart. Bite? What bite? Glen had been with him the entire time. She would have known had he gotten bitten. Doug didn't even have a spot of blood on him. Maybe he was just worried he was going to get bit?

That must have been it.

"Doug," Glen tried, coming a little closer, hoping to comfort him. "If you're scared you can —"

And he dropped the bombshell.

"Just - Stop!" Doug sniffled. "I've been bit - okay! Fucking munched on!"

The silence, save for the crackling of the fire filled the clearing, and Dougs' sobs started back up. He then fumbled with his pant leg, the leg he had been favoring, and ripped the leg of the pants up. Revealing a large wound that was simply bleeding. There was no healing around the affected area, and the steady trickle of blood must have been the cause of his paleness.

Glen could not doubt the authenticity of such a statement.

"You got bit?"

Doug was bit.

Doug didn't speak, he just nodded. Face turned away from her and eyes scrunched up in some kind of tortured expression.

"When?" Glen asked, frozen to her spot.

She tried to calculate when they had last been in close quarters with a walker. They had gotten onto the roof in time, nothing had gotten close enough... Where the hell had he got bit? Glen worried over if they both had somehow got bit.

"When?" Doug parroted, as if confused by the question. "... In-in the alley."

Glen couldn't form words. It was as if every word she had ever learned was useless. Nothing would help.

Doug was **bit**.

"When you.. you know, did that leap onto the ladder and pulled me up." Doug continued, explaining. "One of... one of the Geeks got me. I thought - I had just scratched myself at first, because it didn't hurt all that bad. Kind of like a pinch - But... after we got caught on the roof..."

Glen imagined the next words because Doug stopped. _"I figured it out."_

**Doug was bit.**

What was Glen to do with this information? How did she handle it?

She had never had anyone close to her die in front of her. Sure — she had stayed with the Tom guy, but she didn't know shit about him. Her grandmother had died in a nursing home, away from the world. Her parents could still be alive, but she had no clue. They hadn't talked for almost two years. Her friends had just disappeared and Glen herself hadn't waited around once people started chomping faces. Cowardly as it was. It was everyone for themselves.

_Doug was bit._

What did one say to that? Scream? Shout? Cry back at him? Argue? Promise that he was going to be okay? Lie through her teeth to save face?

What did someone say to a deadman?

"I'm sorry." Glen sniffled, instead of all those other things. A hand had found its way to her mouth, stifling any sounds she might make involuntarily. She found it exceedingly hard to keep the cotton-mouthed feeling from her throat as she sat next to Doug, head in her hands. "I'm so sorry."

Because what could she say? Can't believe you went and got yourself bit? Sorry I couldn't protect you more? Do you want me to shoot you now?

...Or later?

Glen couldn't even think after that last thought. Doug had then thrown himself at her. And she hugged him to her as he cried into her shirt, wondering what this meant for everything. She could only pat him on the back, and try to lessen the weight of the world on his shoulders.

All their plans were null and void now. Glen acknowledged darkly. Finding others was now on hold. Doug's life was ending, and with it all of his promises and dreams. Glen would survive for the simple fact that she just couldn't stop living.

All because of one universal truth:

Doug was bit.

* * *

Any thoughts? ^.^ All are appreciated!


	3. Away we Go

It had been a beautiful day in Augusta, Georgia. The sun had been up high in the sky, but the warmth of the air hadn't been stifling. There had been a breeze, which brought the smell of spring into the four corners of the world.

At least Glen's world.

It was her day off from ' **Hell's Pizza Place** '. She had been taking it easy. Waking up at eleven and then going for a run to keep herself fit and, as her friend Becca would have said, "sexy and ready". What Glen would be ready for, she had never quite found out. But she could guess. Becca had a one-track mind focused almost totally on finding a rich guy. And sex.

Becca was not the most obtuse companion or friend.

And as Glen had been running, it had been a silent day. Beautiful but silent. Even the birds, which were almost always obnoxious with their song, had stayed without their voices. Glen hadn't noticed at first, on account of the fact she had her headphones in, an ipod and its container around her arm, and a rhythm set deep into her heart as she ran.

But even Glen couldn't ignore when some slimeball actually had the _audacity_ to try and have a go for her in broad daylight. In the middle of a **park** , nonetheless. There were _children_ around. It had broken her stride as the grimy arm had come out of nowhere and grappled for her. Shocked her out of her comfortable stride and the song that had been playing an upbeat rhythm. She had been thinking of her grocery list when the limb had thrown her off.

But Glen was used to these things. Being a fairly attractive woman, she knew the dangers of simply being born a woman and asian. Never in broad-daylight but in alleys at night. Nightclubs. The shady places. Men were perverts so she kept running, only looking back when she had gotten far enough away. A few meters or so.

"Hey!" She called out as she turned around, nose crinkling in distaste as she popped her ear-buds out to give him one-for. "What gives? You think you can ju-"

Her words caught in her throat as the man stumbled towards her, slowly. Still several feet away. His arms seemed too long as he moaned at her. Eyes yellow and sickly sticking out of his face without seeing. He didn't seem drunk, but he definitely had an air of drunkenness about him. He stumbled but didn't fall.

Glen would have gone to help him, had he seemed like he was worth saving. A wolf with Rabies looked saner than the man in front of her. Healthier, even. It reminded her of the story her friend had told her. The one on the news about the people chewing on each other.

His entire being screamed " _ **off**_ " to Glen. Like when one was in a hospital and looking at cancer children. _Wrong-wrong-wrong_. She found whatever protest she had had drowned by a voice in her head saying: "Run."

It was the voice that had been in her head thousands of times before. Don't drink that. Don't be a fool. Don't. Her cautionary words in her mind turning into a kind of guardian angel that she had never really thought to cast any suspicion towards.

So, she listened and ran. Turned and didn't even bother putting the earbuds back into her ears.

It was easier to see now. Watching Doug... Since that day, with her first encounter with a Walker; Glen had been running.

Since the first time she had seen someone, stupidly try and help a Walker get chomped into bits. Screaming until they couldn't anymore.

Since... was it really already four weeks?

Even now, she couldn't force herself to look backwards.

Maybe that could change though.

* * *

"It's not going to get better, is it?" Doug groaned as he leaned against the truck bed, twitching, t-shirt soaked. The sweat was a consistent part of his day. Almost non-stop. The newest addition to his flu like symptoms was the constant vomiting of blood. Thankfully away from her, over the truck bed's sides.

Glen didn't want to answer, but she knew it would be useless not to. Wiping away some of Doug's fevered sweat she spoke, "No, it's not Doug."

Doug tried to smile at her, but failed and ultimately puked over the side of the truck. Again.

The times between his coughing fits were getting less and less pronounced, and Glen knew it meant something important for his life. The end was coming. She could see it in his drooping eyes, his hot-hot skin, and his sluggish almost exhausted movements.

And Doug knew it, too.

"Is there anything I can do for you Doug?" Glen questioned, as the boys shivers increased.

"Shoot me?" Doug gurgled, pressing his head hard against the truck's bed railing. Hoping for some respit against the heat, but he had already laid his head there. It was luke-warm."Preferably in the head."

Glen held his hand. "You really want me to shoot you?"

He was silent for a few moments.

"No. I just-"

Then he sniffled and almost spoke before the coughing fit came back violently - again. Doug hadn't been able to keep anything down since eating on the roof with Daryl, what seemed like a lifetime ago...

It had only been fifteen hours since Doug had been bitten, by Glen's calculations, and he had degraded so quickly; Glen was surprised to look up and see the sun only just starting its descent. They hadn't left their spot in the clearing, the truck as safe as could be and the area around them easy to watch for Walkers if not terribly oepn. There wasn't any danger as far as she could see, so Glen stayed right where she was.

"I'm sorry, Doug-"

"Would you... - stop?" Doug snapped sluggishly. "Ishn't your fault."

Glen scoffed. She took responsibility for her actions. Always would. "Going into the city was my idea. Ergo, my fault."

"Not... your fault." Doug tried again, shivering and then coughing. This time the fit lasting much longer than a minute. When Doug finally was able to get his breath back, it was to moan out scratchily, "Damn..."

He breathed raggedly, trying to get out some kind of sentence while he coughed.

"Besides... I'm..." Half a minute for coughing. "Dead... in a... few anyway."

A few what? Minutes? Hours? Days? Was it bad Glen was praying for a few days, no matter his pain?

Glen vehemently denied that. "Don't say that."

"Glen," Doug whispered with more compassion that Glen would have thought a fifteen year old on the verge of dying could have. Not that she had met many of those. "I'm gon - na die... soon -"

Glen listened to what could be Doug's last words without breathing, not wanting to miss the basically-mouthed syllables. Doug being much too weak to raise his voice above anything more than a whisper.

"It's been... good run..." Doug mumbled, eyes fluttering shut in pure exhaustion. "Don't... regret..."

And Glen strained to hear anything else but Doug was out. Completely unconscious. Thing unsaid that she wished had been, but even Glen wasn't selfish enough that she would wake up Doug after he'd already fallen asleep. Safe from his coughing fits and perhaps his own death. There was nothing more to do. All she could do was gently pet the side of his face, greasy with grim and sweaty as it was.

Glen sat back against the trucks haul, head knocking into the glass of the cab as she let out a strangled sigh a mixture between grieving and denial. Doug shivering but silent beside her.

 _How had the world come to this?_ Glen wondered, staring up at the cloudless, Georgia sky. Arms limp by her side as she listened to the world. Birds chirping, squirrels angry and squabbling, along with the sound of a stream close by. How had it gone so wrong so fast?

Just days ago she and Doug had been traveling Georgia, fighting for their lives, and simply trying to live; now it seemed as if that was only ever a **dream**. Surviving the apocalypse? Why had Glen thought it would be easy... Why had she thought there weren't going to be casualties close to her own heart?

Glen had been **arrogant** , she knew that, and now she was paying the price with blood. She'd never been much of a people person. Not family. Not friends. Put up with them if there was a mutual benefit but other than that she left them alone. They left her alone. She hadn't needed anyone, and nobody had really needed her.

She was fast on her feet, quick witted, and able to think fast in the face of most modern dangers. There were all things people apparently could put up with, even if she was anti-social. How were those skills supposed to help her now? Doug was _**dying**_ and none of those attributes would save him. She couldn't outrun or outthink a sickness.

She couldn't. No matter how much she wanted to bend physics and stop time and space from continuing on. No matter how much it would hurt when he was gone.

"What am I supposed to do now?"Glen questioned as she listened to Doug's breathing. In and out, in and out. Weak but consistent. His body moved with his heart and he still lived. Even if he was not awake; it didn't mean he wasn't there. His heart fluttered weakly under her hand.

_But for how long? How long until his body succumbed to this virus? How long till he rose and tried to eat her?_

Glen hadn't a clue.

She'd never stuck around to watch those die and reanimate. That was a fool's errand. It didn't help that she could hear a noise in the distance. A rumbling roar of machine coming down the road. Smaller than her truck, but bigger than a lawnmower. Interrupting her.

She didn't need this right now.

Then again, who did?

* * *

Daryl. That was who had been coming down the road. The stranger, Daryl, cross-bow wielding, gun toting, all around american. Daryl no-last-name.

Riding on a Harley, somehow, muffling the engine. Perhaps it was built that way. Maybe he built it that way. Glen couldn't see how.

Glen had been leaning against her truck, watching the road for whoever would be coming around. Whether they be good or bad, she was going to face it head on. What did she have to lose? Herself?

She hardly seemed like a prize.

It had been an almost pleasant surprise when Daryl had pulled up, right next to the truck and swung his leg off, kicked the stand, never taking his eyes off her.

"You didn't make it far." Daryl observed, looking over the campground they had established. "Had at least half a days run."

Glen didn't move, "Not a whole lot of reason, too."

Daryl raised an eyebrow before stiffening, hearing Doug's groan for the first time. Glen had heard it so often, it didn't phase her, but she wasn't deaf. It sounded like a Walker. Even as weak as it had been. Even as human as he was at the moment. The undertone was clearly dead.

Before Daryl would do anything rash, Glen stopped him. "It's Doug."

Daryl fixed her with an intense stare. "Bit?"

"Yes."

Daryl didn't even blink. Nor did he berate her, or Doug. Perhaps even Daryl had enough of a heart to stay out of that.

"He's almost gone, I take it?" Daryl said, crossing his arms peering over the truck bed.

Glen didn't have to say anything. The fact that Doug was not coherent said all for her. She looked in, too, and was worried by what she saw. He'd slid down a little from his sitting position. His muscles limp. His breathing was slow, and she could count the intakes per minute on one hand.

"Gotta admit, didn't think this would be the next time I saw you." Daryl started, watching the sleeping kid.

Glen allowed a small, regrettable smile to her face. Exhaustion was seeping into her very bones. "Ditto."

Then Doug stopped groaning.

Not a dead stop, either, but it slowed until Glen couldn't hear his breathing. Which hadn't happened in hours. There'd always been the soft puffing he had made. Sick and dead as it had been.

It was a reflexive action, born from many years, that she gripped her long jacket sleeves in her fingers and pulled, tightening until she didn't have much blood flow left in her hands. She tried to keep her breathing steady, but it was hard. She had never had a panic attack, but now that the world had ended; it seemed as if everything was ending. Doing new things that she never thought she would do.

The world narrowed for her, as she stared at the unmoving form of Doug.

"He's dead - Ya'know?"

Hearing it spoke made the knowledge even worse, but somehow better. The words themselves were harsh, but truthful. Like a slap to the face.

She croaked. "I know."

Glen had her eyes closed, but could feel Daryl moving around her. She knew what he was going to do. She knew because it was the very thing she would do.

Doug was dead.

He was going to finish the job.

That thought was simply **unthinkable**. In her state of mind, he had just been alive. How had it just ended so soon? How fast did it take for someone's soul to leave them?

She grabbed the edge of Daryl's shirt, "No. Stop."

"He's already dead-" Daryl protested, quietly. His crossbow already in hand as he looked down at her with a frown.

"Doesn't mean you get to do it." Glen found herself saying, "I want to do it... I _need_ to do it."

It surprise her when the words came out, but they strengthened her resolve.

"Ya sure?" Daryl questioned, some kind of newfound respect and pity in his eyes. "I ain't got no connect to him. It's easy fur me."

"I'm the only one left that will remember him after this..." It was only right.

"So yes."

And Daryl backed off, taking a step away from the truck almost politely. As if seeing the validity in the statement and honoring it.

Glen took a deep breath, before stepping forward the few paces to the back of the truck and hopping up. Doug lay as if he was only sleeping, eyes closed and head turned slightly towards the forest. His face was sunken, his skin falling, but his body hadn't changed. It had only stopped working.

He was dead, Glen realised, but that didn't mean she didn't still know him. His laugh whenever she would make a corny joke. The way he rolled his eyes when he didn't want to do something, but did it anyway. How they used to argue. His his lips would quirk when something hit him just right enough to be funny.

Glen realized, with a slap of stark clarity she hadn't seen in a while - she wasn't ready.

Dead was a part of life, but this seemed like a heinous crime. Too young, thats what Doug was. The gun was in her hand, and she could pull the trigger whenever she wanted. It was aimed at Doug's head.

But.

She didn't want to.

It wasn't a revelation, but it was a fact. It wasn't a need to kill him again, but refusal.

She stood for almost a minute, just looking him over. Taking all the time she could to study his face before she blew up. Him or herself, really. Time would tell which came first. She could count every freckle on his face if she wanted, note how the orange color of his hair was almost auburn, and understand from the pictures that yes, he did have his mother's nose.

But it wasn't enough.

Her eyes unfocused, and she wiped at them angry. Now was not the time to be weak. Tears streaked her long sleeved jacket taking away most of the moisture. A shock as she realized just how heavily she had been starting to leak.

Before she could really talk herself out of it, Doug twitched. It started in his hands, and then his arms. There was no rhyme or reason to the movements, just that it was capable of happening. It was slow, but Glen was mesmerized. And then, his head moved.

How long had she stood there? Shocked. Stock-still. World crumbling even as Doug moved when he should have stayed down.

Glen was shocked at just how quickly he had changed. It couldn't have been more than ten minutes since he had fallen asleep. Maybe two after he had died. The yellow of his eyes as he looked backwards at Glen struck her. And then Doug moaned, deep in his throat as he started to turn towards her. His movements baby like in their obscurity.

His body was stuttering at all the wrong times, and he ended up face down more times than Glen could count as he came closer. And even thought he looked wrong, Glen couldn't do it. She couldn't shoot him. Falling to her knees as he came closer, she realized she didn't know if she wanted to fight him either.

As Doug was reaching out to her, a moan halfway past his lips; his head exploded.

Glen flinched,and shut her eyes as some of the gore flew towards her, most of it passing her on the side. It was exactly like watching a watermelon explode, except the pieces of fruit were flesh, bone, and teeth. And after the fact, since she had been so close, she was drenched.

"You didn't move fast enough." Daryl was standing with one of the guns they'd taken from the blown up apartment across from her, still standing on the ground.

Glen breathed in the stench of Doug all over her. It was putrid and stank but Glen couldn't bring herself to wipe it away.

"I know."

"Wanted him to get you or somethin'?" Daryl asked, a spark of anger in his tone, as he lowered the gun and stared at her like she was crazy.

"No." Glen admitted. More to herself than Daryl. "Just... He was there. And I... couldn't do it."

He left her alone as she wiped the grime off her face, grimacing as it left behind streaks of human fluid. It hit Glen like a truck that having Doug all over her was just plain **wrong**. Her stomach tossed and turned.

It didn't take her long to rise to her feet, stomach roiling, and start to walk unsteadily towards the stream she could faintly hear crashing and banging. Then, as the lukewarm blood dried and cooled on her, she started running.

It was a need to be clean that drove her. A need to wash away both the guilt and the death off herself. She wasn't watching where she was going, but she didn't care. She hit a tree, a few low-slung branches, and tripped on more than just a few rocks.

No physical pain reacher her past the brokenness of her insides.

Doug had just died in front of her, then came back. As if he didn't have any recollection of who she was - he had come after her.

_Was this how the rest of the world had had to face things? To deal with?_

Glen choked as she knelt by the stream. The water was too fast to see her reflection but that was an oddly calming thought. Especially as she dunked her head into the stream and scrubbed. Using rocks, moss, and whatever she could get her hands on to rub Doug off of herself.

Even as she felt her skin, the smoothness under her fingertips, as she rose from the water she still felt dirty. Soiled. It was deep beneath her skin and it wouldn't be scrubbed off easily.

But Glen had to try.

Off came her jacket, then her shirt, followed by her pants as she stood in the stream in nothing but a bra and underwear. Water lapping at her shins. Her clothing was all things she had stolen from a store, on account of the fact she had run from the city in nothing but her jogging clothes; so she didn't care that they were dirty. The fact that they had been touching her had been the hard part to grasp. Her brain, short-circuiting as it was, couldn't stand the fact that Doug had been on her clothes and she needed it gone.

Glen scrubbed her skin. Scoured it until it was red. Both to rid herself of the filth and to dig deep into the bone, trying to rub out the guilt and agony that was stabbing her in the heart. Denial was a close second, but she didn't want that gone.

 _Oh, why did it_ _ **hurt**_ _?_ Doug had just been a kid she'd found in a cornfield. He wasn't supposed to have this kind of pull on her life, even after his own had ended. The dead were supposed to stay dead, and far away from her. So why did she feel so damn much for that stupid kid?

He'd gotten bitten and caused a hell of a lot more trouble than he had been worth, but Glen couldn't stamp him out of her mind. He was like an infection. Perhaps even more deadly than the one that had ended his own life.

She stayed in the frigid water for almost ten minutes, non-stop scrubbing and dunking herself. She'd collapsed, knees dipping low into the water as she had tried her hardest to become better. Before she felt semi-human. Allowed herself to be called human again. There was still the overwhelming need to feel _clean_ , but somehow Glen accepted that she never would be.

Back in her right mind, Glen looked up towards the shore for her clothes. Dirty as they were, she would need them until she could raid another store. Or the truck. Only to find Daryl standing against a tree, a few feet away from her pile of soiled garments. Watching her.

Glen was a shy person most of the time. Social interaction was a new thing, especially in this new world without Doug or most people. But having the kid dead for only half an hour at most just s _napped somethi_ ng in her.

 _Who cared if Daryl saw her half naked?_ It was the end of the world. Who cared if she was dripping more than those teenagers at wet-tshirt competitions? **It was the end of the world.** They'd probably see more outrageous things later down the line. If not already. Plus, Glen childishly acknowledged that 'it was the end of the world' excuse worked for everything. Including hunger, sadness, and lack of good clothing.

"What're you doing here?" Glen asked, stepping out onto the bank. The sandy shore was grimy beneath her toes, and it actually felt pleasant.

Daryl shrugged. "Ya forgot to bring a gun or somethin' to defend yer'self."

Glen paused as she gathered up her clothes, feet away from the rogue hunter. Seeing how soiled most of her garments were, she threw them away. Far into the bushes. She had forgotten. She'd been so caught up in the death of Doug that she had actually forgotten about the fact that he was not the only Walker around.

 _How cliche._ Glen groaned to herself.

"Crap." She mumbled, not even bothering to put on her clothes. She had some extra's in the truck, why bother with getting dirty again when she was getting new clothes on? "Sorry."

Daryl only raised his eyebrow condescendingly.

"So what wus the kid to ya?" The redneck walked beside her back to the truck. "Didn't much look like yer kid. Unless ya got som' red in yer hair I don't see."

Glen actually managed to snort. "Some kid I found in a field."

That didn't nearly sum up her feelings on the matter, but it was the truth. Without all the flowery words attached.

"Seriously?" Daryl took his turn to chuckle darkly, which was more of a snort than anything. "You just pick up strays or somethin'?"

"Or something."

"Yer crazy."

Glen was curious why he would think that. "Why?"

"The world ends and ya go pick up sum' kid?" He paused, not for any real care of her feelings, but just because he was thinking. "Not my first thought, is all."

They'd reached the truck, with Doug still hanging out the back of the truck bed. Dead and falling slowly out. It was surreal. Neither of them moved towards him. Glen out of shock and some hard won self control and Daryle because he had no business to the kids dead body.

"I was lonely," Glen didn't have any reason to lie. This Daryl character knew enough about her anyway. No reason to put on false airs. "He was alone. No one would miss him. He would have died without me."

Yet he had still died.

Looking at the headless corpse, it was almost too easy to imagine that it wasn't Doug. That Doug had just decided to up and leave, instead of die like he had. The clothes were the same, but without the face it was so simple to just... imagine a better end.

And that's what Glen did. For a few seconds.

"Could'a found better company than a ginger - even Ah'm not that desperate."

_Oh come now. He couldn't be that racist-_

She took a double-take of the situation.

_Desperate?_

Glen's heart clenched dangerously as she watched the dead body hit the ground. She felt far away from the situation.

 _What did that mean...?_ He couldn't honestly be insinuating- he didn't want her to come... with him... right?

He'd hardly made it seem like he had wanted her, but with him showing up out of the blue like he had... had he been looking for her? Was that why he was here?

"Desperate enough for company with an asian?" She had to try. She'd beat herself up if she didn't.

Daryl looked her over, Glen could feel even with her back turned. She was still half naked, just now searching through the truck's cab for some clothes. She found a shirt, and some pants, but no jacket. So that meant she was going to have to keep hers until she found a new one. Or stole it.

Whichever came first. Just like everything else.

"Ah might be." Daryl asked said, as if he had thought over every single angle of her being with him. Glen paused in pulling her pants up to look at him. "Ya any good at hunting?"

"I've never been hunting... but I'm fast. Before I met D-Doug," Would the pain ever leave? "I had managed just fine on my own."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

 _Was he thick?_ She didn't dare ask.

"I'm good at scouting. Never hunted." Glen clarified.

There was a thoughtful look to him.

"Well, if ye're gonna be running with the Dixon's, ya gotta learn."

"Alright-"

Dixon's? Was that his last name? It fit him -

... Why the hell was it **plural**?

* * *

"Well-he- _Hello_ there, honey."

Big, burly and head practically bald was the first impression Glen received of Daryl _Dixon_ 's brother. And as he drew closer, threw an arm around her shoulder, the fact that his breath stunk was close second.

"Name's—" He was pushed off Glen by Daryl.

 _Oh. Dear. God._ Glen thought to herself somewhat stunned. _What the hell have I gotten myself into?_

"Come'on Merle, lay off." Daryl shoved his brother away from being right up in Glen's face. "This is the chick ah was talking about. On the roof? Useless ginger that was with her got chomped so she'll be with us."

There were two rednecks now. Brothers. And they looked nothing alike. One was burly and huge and the other slight and well muscled. It was almost more of a shock than Doug's death. Along with the subsequent leaving of his body behind. Deliberate, so she could refuse to believe he was dead.

But she couldn't refuse that the brothers looked nothing alike.

"Ehm- hi?" Glen squeaked before clearing her throat. Catching the attention back to herself.

"Awww, ain't she cute." Merle gushed, leering at Glen enough that she was decidedly uncomfortable.

He didn't even blink at her fidgeting.

"So why'd you follow little daryl-enia back here? Ya two getting it on or som-"

"No." Glen said horrified at the implications.

"Fur the love of - Merle, shut it woulda ya?" Daryl advised with a low stare. "We ain't doing nothing."

She nodded quickly in agreement.

"Let 'er talk fer herself, Daryl." Merle stated, pushing his brother away and consequently getting closer to Glen. "Pretty little thing like her knows what she wants. Ain't that right..."

He stumbled with himself as if just now realizing she hadn't given her name.

"Uh, what's yer-"

His face was comically confused. He looked like a pug that wasn't quite sure how to deal with the situation presented to him.

Glen rolled her eyes, becoming a little more comfortable with the outrageous man. So far she could peg him as a pervert, but pretty easy going. There wasn't exactly a kindness to him and he was far from harmless: yet - he was something altogether different than anything she had ever known. He was still a huge man, but he was... safe?

As long as Daryl was around. Daryl hadn't seemed so bad, so she was going to give the bigger a man a chance.

It was the least she could do.

"Name's Glen." She said with more moxie than she was feeling.

"Look'it! She can speak for herself." Merle announced, as if Daryl hadn't heard her speak before. "So why'd ya follow my brotha? Got the hots for him? Cause if so you're not chasing the right brother. I mean, lookit these guns!"

He made a show of his muscles, which as impressive as they were, did not retract from his teeth. Glen only raised an eyebrow.

"It was a better option than being alone?" Glen tried cutting in, leaning against the truck's side, more than a little uncomfortable with the direction of conversation.

It wasn't often people questioned if she liked someone. Especially when most people were Walkers. And she was never one to offer up information about herself anyway. No matter how hot the red-neck was.

"I guess that works." Merle said, before asking. "He tell you anything about me?"

Glen answered honestly. "I didn't even know he **had** a brother until we drove over here."

"What?" Merle snarled, facing his brother. "How could ya forget me? What are family for if yar just gonna throw 'em under the bus?"

Daryl was unamused.

"Maybe I didn't want to scare away two other survivors? Kind of stuck on a roof wit 'em. Didn't much wanna talk."

"Oh really -"

Apparently that was good enough for Merle because he and Daryl started bickering about something or another. Why she hadn't been told of the amazing person named Merle. A city. A buck they missed. A trap that was full. Anything and everything. Daryl poking at the fire while Merle cleaned a gun. It hit her then that Daryl had always had backup. The car alarms going off suddenly made a lot of sense. A distraction, probably planned if the other brother didn't show up.

The two brothers settled down against two separate logs, across each other from the fire. Sharing company with a good distance between themselves.

They didn't even try to make room for her. They hardly even glanced at her after introductions, but that almost was better than if they had. She was welcome, but she had to work for it. It wasn't outright said, but she understood it. Reading body langauge was something she'd picked up when delivering food and also dealing with the crazy people in her city.

It was an eat or get eaten world. It gave her mind something to do, too. Beside think of Doug.

 _Damn it._ She was thinking about him again.

Pushing Doug out of her mind, she joined in to the twosome throng. Plopping next to Merle on the stump. He didn't even look at her, just continued on cleaning his gun and talking with Daryl. It wasn't to be mean or anything, Glen understood, but she knew she had to do something to keep her mind occupied.

She tried to observe the situation as she saw it. It seemed as if the two brothers got along as well as they could. The cursing was more lovingly thrown at each other than not, and they had a strange way to see if the other was hurt. Glen had seen enough of what she had deemed 'macho' behavior to know that these two had it down like an art.

It took a little while, after the brothers had simply stopped talking except to throw a few insults at each other that Glen felt marginally better about saying something.

So, she decided to start by asking a simple question.

"You know how to work one of these?" As she pulled out a gun from her bag. All Glen knew about it was that it was a shotgun of some kind, other than that - she was lost. Maybe getting help would make her seem like less of a threat. And more part of their strange little group.

"You ain't scared of me? Arh ya?" Merle asked first, as if testing her.

Glen raised an eyebrow. "Terrified."

Merle snorted a laugh. "I like you."

Glen simply smiled, glad to make the man amused.

Perhaps she should have been scared of these two strangers she now found herself in front of, but she couldn't manage it. Doug's death had taken all the caution out of her system. For now, anyway. Perhaps tomorrow she would feel differently about it. But for today. Tonight...

The Dixon's didn't seem to mind either. It seemed they'd been judged much too much already. Unless they stabbed her in the back, she wasn't going to do anything rash.

The fact that she was a girl apparently already made her less of a threat than anything else.

"You're in for a treat then, honey," Merle announced, looking over the gun she handed him. "'Cause I know everythin' there is to know about these here guns-"

And Glen settled down for the ride. Listening as Merle started to explain about how guns worked, something nobody had actually ever taken the time to explain to her. He mentioned what to look for when actually using the sight, how to hold it, and what shooting really entailed. The kickback,

Daryl sat on the opposite side of the fire, watching them.

There was a calmness to the atmosphere that Glen had been sorely missing. Like a balm for a sore spot, that was still festering.

Perhaps, tomorrow, she would remember this feeling.

* * *

So what do you guys think?

I'm hoping to skip a bit next chapter and get straight into the Camp life that we all know and love :D The dynamic of Daryl and Glen's relationship will also become more... substantial next time. I am hoping!

-Jairose

 


	4. A Life to Live

 

"Wake up." Daryl whispered, his voice rumbling in the way Glen knew meant he had just woken up himself.

But Daryl didn't wake up slowly. It was like a switch was flipped and he was standing, looming over them all. Easy as that and quite as terrifying. She'd had her fair share of shitting herself moments.

"No," Glen mumbled petulantly. Batting at his looming shadow. "I need my _beauty sleep_."

She received a snort for her cute answer, but Daryl didn't flip her over. This time. Small mercies.

There was a rustling over her, and then sunlight burst into the tent. Blinding her even through her closed eyelids. Matching groans greeted Daryl for his sordid act.

"Ugh," She groaned pushing her head into the crook of her arm, trying to escape the light. " _Bastard-ass_."

"Get up," Daryl ignored her in favor of his brother. "Ya get **yer** sorry ass up too, Merle."

"Fuck you." Came the surly reply. "Ain't even **seven** yet."

Glen smirked into her arm. The older Dixon had a point.

There was a rustling and then Daryl was gone. Glen peeked up over her arm towards the tents entrance. No sign of the good looking brother. Good. He rose way too early. She raised her head higher, stretching outward.

"He gone?" Merle asked, looking up as well over his waning beer gut. He was laid out flat on his back right next to her.

"Looks like it." Glen said with a yawn, throwing the meager blanket off herself and sitting up to stretch. She was dressed lightly, in little more than shorts and a shirt. The Georgia sun was brutal in the daytime and cool in the night but it was still hot enough to garner little in the way of actual coverage. "Probably eager to go check his traps."

"Good," The elder Dixon said, before he continued with his lie-in. " _The Pansies_ are getting restless."

Glen smirked at his terminology for the rest of the camp.

'Pansies' was the least offensive of all of Merle's words to describe the camp. She couldn't really blame him though, because the camp was more sheepel than actual brains or brawns. Or anything. There were maybe four or five people who had been in the camp _before_ they, the Dixon's and herself, had arrived that had any real worth.

Two of them, Shane and Lori, had a kid so there was only so much they were actually useful for. The ex-deputy was a great shot with a rifle, pistol, or basically anything thrust into his hand at a moments notice. Lori herself had a knack for cooking anything that was brought to her. Another, older man named Dale, was a genius with cars and the like. There was also a younger mechanic, Jim, that hung around with the older man.

From there... it all fell into such domestic roles it was almost **sickening**. Woman did the laundry, men did... something. _Actually, what did the men even do but lug around weapons and look_ _ **'intimidating'**_ _?_ Glen asked herself, unsurprised when she realized she didn't know.

She might be a little biased, but it was as if only the Dixon's were really worth anything. Which was saying something with how Merle spent half his time cursing out the entire camp and scaring the children.

Which, she was _against_ , but it was Merle. It didn't hurt anyone. The kids _were_ annoying. The children knew not to mess with him, which was something, but other than that there wasn't a lot she could do short of hitting him with a frying pan. He was just loud and that annoyed some people. It was just how he was. The rest of the camp could suck it up.

Besides Merle, Daryl spent almost all of his time hunting or providing food.

"Since I'm up, _thanks to fucking Morning Glory_ -" Glen snarled. "I might as well heading into the Main see what there is to know."

"Not a bad idea." Merle acknowledged without working on getting up. "Kick ass if ya hafta, _Chink-a_."

Snorting, but taking Merle's words for what they were (a kind of half-kindness-half-racist comment that she had come to learn to love rather than feel disturbed by) she said, "Noted."

Pulling on some pants, a shirt, and her boots she grabbed a jacket as well. Glen opened the tent flap wide so some of the light hit Merle straight on as she jumped out before his flying arm could trip her. No matter how valiant of an effort it made.

"Fucking bitch." She heard even as she walked the few steps away from the closing tent flap.

Glen didn't bother replying to him, as the semi-cool air of Georgia met her head on. Goosebumps popped up over her skin and she quickly slipped on her thin jacket to stave off the morning cool. Flipping her hair over the hood and situating it even as she started walking. It would heat up soon enough, but it was better to keep herself well temperature-balanced. She didn't want to get sick.

Like Doug had - _Hell_ no. Not today.

Glen had rules in place whenever her mind started to wander. One of them was it was too **damn** early to be **depressed**.

She wasn't going down that dark path right now. Not this early in the morning. She resolutely shoved any thoughts of Doug out of her mind before they even began to blossom. Turning her thoughts and her direction towards the camp and its inhabitants.

The camp they had set up, her and the Dixon's, was well off the beaten path from the others. Not too far, but enough so that people wouldn't come near for any stupid reason. Like talk to them. Or try and share food (that Daryl had caught) with them. Or... well, anything really.

"Morning." One of the camp-dwellers said as she entered the throng of tents, trucks, and dying campfires. It was a lady, with a daughter. Nothing too special about her, other than the bruises that had shown up yesterday. Or well, Glen had only been around a few days and when she had arrived there _hadn't been_ any bruises. The yellow color around the darkness, told a different story.

Glen could read between the lines.

"Hey." She greeted as she shoved her hands in her pockets. "Anything to know?"

"About?" The woman asked looking up from the small fire she had started.

Glen shrugged. "Anything really. Any new trips scheduled I should know of? Signs of walkers? Anything since yesterday?"

The woman seemed puzzled for a moment but then blinked. "I wouldn't really know anything about all... **that**. I just... uhm stick around camp mostly. Far as I know, haven't heard anything about walkers or scouting trips into the city."

 _Of course not._ Glen thought to herself. Sheeple don't concern themselves with the shepherds.

"Hmm, worth a shot," Glen said to herself, before turning and smiling to the short-haired woman. "Thanks."

She took a step away, ready to go search out Shane when the woman called out. "Wait a moment. Please?"

Now it was Glen's turn to blink and turn around. "Yeah?"

"You're.. uhm, you're the girl who's staying with those Brothers right?"

It amused Glen to no end that most people in camp thought the brother as more _crazy animals_ than _human_. By amused she meant it made her **angry** enough that she plastered on a mask of indifferent as fast as she could. Mainly so she wasn't lumped together in the same category as the brothers.

She didn't do it out of spite either. It was more to level the playing field. In these situations, they both were strangers. Fastest way to get Information was to act like minded. If the sheeple thought she wasn't attached to the Dixon's, they let slip information they rather would have kept closer. Like feelings on matters they shouldn't stick their nose into. People looked at her differently even though she was Asian. Compared to the Dixon's, she was the normal one. It wouldn't do to have all the village idiots hate all three of them.

No matter how many atrocities the camp people themselves had committed; it was as if the brothers could only do **wrong**. It was easier to place their fears onto the brothers. Especially Merle. It was easier for the camp people to have a scapegoat. Something they could see tangibly even if a Walker was biting them on the ass.

"The Dixon's. Yup. That'd be me." She acknowledged stiffly. "Names Glen... What about it?"

"Uhm. Carol." The woman stuttered, frazzled almost.

Glen inclined her head. She didn't really care what the woman's name was, but she at least had the knowledge now.

"I hope you don't think I'm rude or anything but... uhm, how can you stand them?"

Glen froze. A thousand responses running through her head as she stared at the woman, whose face was still healing a bruise.

 _How can you stand them,_ she asks. Glen thought darkly to herself. Poison on her lips, and also kind words. A two way street where she only was planning on traveling once. Over the years she had picked up a variety of thinly veiled insults suited to just about any stranger. Most were mean and after sticking with the Dixon's for so long, she picked one of her better retorts.

"You're right. It was rude," Glen stated coldly. "I stand them as I can only assume the same way you stand your **abuser**. I stand still and listen, and then afterwards its a different matter. Except they don't **dare** touch me without my permission. Nor do they leave behind any evidence to the contrary."

She paused for a moment, allowing it to sit before she spoke once more. "At least learn their names before you shit on them."

She didn't wait for the expression that bloomed over Carol's face, a mixture of indignation and shame; simply turned and continued her search for someone who actually knew something.

If she was no longer in a good mood when she arrived - then it wasn't her fault now, _was it_?

* * *

"Mornin' Glen." Shane greeted her as he saw her walking towards him.

The man was a strange thing. Glen guessed he had some kind of native American in himself. Or maybe Jewish. She didn't know, nor was she good at guessing it. His skin was dark, not as dark as hers, and he held himself as if he didn't like himself. Which was also strange, because she knew she loved himself. Was very full of himself.

As she came up, he was sitting on a stump, poking at some eggs in a frying pan. Lori and the kid must be sleeping in, Glen assumed, considering nobody was with him.

He waved to an empty spot.

"Morning." Glen sat down, stretching her legs out in front of her.

"Anything I can do for ya?"

Glen shook her head. "We were just wondering if there was anything happening. Any trips into town planned?"

"Getting restless?" Shane asked, with a smile she didn't quite trust. It was too happy. Too... accepting in this world of living nightmares.

"Daryl hunts and Merle and I sit around." Glen said, rubbing her arms to get some warmth. "So yeah, we're getting kind of restless."

Shane rubbed his chin, the stubble making a soft _'shink'_ sound. "Remind me what you're good at again?"

"Scouting. I'm told I'm light on my feet and quick. If the Geek's don't see me, they won't know I'm there."

Shane should know all of this. Especially on account of the first time they had ever met he had demanded what they would be able to bring to the table. What Merle and her could do hardly must have seemed impressive knowing that Daryl was such a great hunter. He'd allowed them to set up camp if Daryl would hunt for the group. Offered group protection in exchange for help feeding the masses. Medicine if they ever needed it. A sense of community.

Knowing that Daryl brought home enough to feed a good size group, it was easy to say yes. It was a waste to say no. Trade in a little bit of freedom for some backup in a fight? Easiest thing they had decided on in a while. Merle had been against it, because of his own Merle-y reasons ( a lot of it had to do with who he would want backing him up in a bar-fight and nobody he'd seen would be a candidate except Shane or Glen herself), but as a group they had decided they'd throw in their lot with the Pansies. For as long as they could.

Or were willing too. Time would tell.

The world was a crap heap and it would continue being one. Might as well try out people for as long as it was safe. Plus, the end of the world was still relatively 'raw' to them all. People still had some goodness left in them.

"We're running out of some supplies. Medical things..."

Glen nodded, faintly remembering a conversation she had sat in on about such a topic. Bandages and the like were running low along with antiseptic lotions and the such. There were elderly in the group who needed different medications. People that was useless, but in a different way than Merle and herself were.

Glen never spoke out loud, much like most of the people, but the supply was dwindling for most things. Rare medicine even more so. It would be sad to see them go, but the older people didn't have a chance in a few months time... Nobody was really ready to think that far ahead though.

"We don't want to try Atlanta just yet. You think you can scavenge one of the towns, north of here? I think it's called - Conyer? Maybe, don't really know much about it. Small little place, just over the hill -"

Glen froze. A sharp five finger pain searing through her heart. _Not Conyer._

"There isn't anything there." Glen found herself saying. Doug brought back up in her mind like a ghost. His body rather than his face. Her fist was clenching even though she wasn't quite aware of it.

"Hasn't been for quite some time."

Shane took her silence as meaning of something deeper than just some random kids death, probably a hometown or something.

She let him.

"Sorry."

"Don't want to talk about it..." Glen stopped him before he could try and say something more. She didn't want his pity.

Taking a breath, Glen started thinking.

"You need medical..." She scratched under her chin. "The only place that would actually have enough of **anything** at the moment would probably be Atlanta. Nobody is stupid enough to try it on for size. Which makes it perfect."

Glen received a sharp glance. "A suicide mission?"

She shook her head.

"I scouted it out a few days before we threw our lot in with you guys." Glen retorted. "Found a few weak spots. Empty of almost all Walkers."

"Really?" Shane said, a shine in his eye that spoke of the lust most men had for adventure and adrenaline.

"Not saying I want to go," Glen said, raising her hands placatingly. "Simply stating facts."

"We aren't so bad off that we need to seriously consider Atlanta." Shane said, his shrewd eyes narrowing.

"You say that," Glen retorted. She'd seen how some of the things were falling apart in the small camp. It was more than medical these people needed. It was also a leader that was taking them places and no matter how great Shane was at keeping everything in line and orderly - nobody had any idea what they were going to do later.

The future was there, a constant hope, but also a constant reminder. Hell and heaven. A kind of cruel joke that everyone was hoping for a different punchline.

"Shane?"

The faint, feminine voice called out from the tent flap calmly and softly. Oozing sleep.

"Yeah, sweetheart?" Shane called just as softly, changing his entire attitude for the woman he was shacking up with.

Lori lazily poked her head through the flap and with a robe around her shoulders. Seeing Glen, it was like a switch was flipped, and she stood a little straighter and stumble out to sit next to Shane. It took only a few seconds of settling down and scooting against her man in a show of this-mind-don't-touch, but Lori was soon settled in. Glen wondered if they were married, but there was an undertones of tension - even through their soft actions and loving movements.

Plus, the kid didn't look a thing like him. Nor call him dad, or father, or whatever Shane would want to be called.

The matter of wedding rings also spoke louder than any words ever would. Lori's band gleaming, taken off occasionally, and Shane's hand bare. Glen just assumed it was one of those end-of-the-world things. Maybe a dead husband and a comfort rolling in the hay that had gradually changed into more.

Glen admitted to herself that she had thought about something similar with Daryl more than once - but who could blame her? He was a dirty knight in shining armor, that had saved her from herself. She was simply along for the ride, hoping she could get her balance back before she lost that dream too.

Besides, Daryl had never seemed interested. She'd been naked plenty of times in front of him and he'd always been more gentlemanly than she was used to men being. Always averting his eyes when she blushed, always looking her in the eyes inside of wandering. It was nice. She much prefered having a friend than just some kind of sexual gratification.

"Think about it a bit Shane," Glen said abruptly as she stood. "Always nice to see ya, Lori."

"Nice to see you too, Glen." Lori called after her with a wave. She returned it absentmindedly.

Glen faintly heard, _"What was she talking about?"_

Oh well, she'd leave the explanations to the **man**. Plus, she wanted to spend some time with the brother's.

Ever since she had gotten together, with Daryl saving her life from her own stupidity, and Merle kind of sort-of taking her under his wing... In the way that he would berate her until it had evolved into the same way he berated Daryle - except softer. She'd learned that the world was more cruel than she had originally thought. With Doug's death, it had cemented it home. It had destroyed her the first day, but every day afterwards, learning how to get along with the Dixon's - it had **saved** her.

Built her up and saved her scrawny hide from sure death.

For that, she owned them her life.

It was corny, and the brothers would make fun of her _endlessly_ if she spoke **a word** of anything in her thoughts - but it was the _truth_. The Dixon's had acted like them saving her life had been nothing when it had simply done more than anyone else had done in a very, very long time.

Glen would never admit that to the hard-headed brothers, but she tried to convey her thanks through her actions and loyalty. Stick with them no matter what and see what happened. Didn't matter if they were around to see it. In fact, it was better if they never knew. So far, the reaction had been positive. As in so much as it could be.

Merle could still be trying, with his want to steal everything in sight and run off into the sunset, drinking beer and fucking any girl he could get his hands onto - except oddly her. But she imagined the reason that he had no interest in her was some weird reason but highly plausibly answer that Merle had yet to disclose. She trusted him enough, anyway.

Looking up to see the sun rising higher, Glen surmised it was probably almost eight. About time to get back and scrounge up some food.

Unless they already had food ready. If there was no use for her, then she might as well go back to sleep. Or practice shooting with Merle. If Daryl was back, perhaps he could teach her to skin whatever he had brought back. She knew rabbits and fowl for the most part, but anything more and it was beyond her. Deer were a scarcity and hassle that Daryl hadn't taught her yet.

Really, her options were limitless and very limited here in camp. Especially since she didn't know anybody else in the camp except Carol and the mechanic's. One she really didn't want to talk to and the other two were boring in their old, complicated ways.

She could try and make a new friend -

Glen stopped next to a light, blue tent as that struck her as particularly odd. It had been a little more than a week since... well, joining with the brothers. Since then she hadn't really thought about seeking out other people's company, except Daryl's and Merle's. There were many reasons for this, but the main one was that she just didn't feel up to trusting anyone else.

She was debating about how to corner one of the hopeless campers when someone beat her to the punch.

"Hey, you're the new girl - Glenda right?"

 _What was it? Meet everyone and their uncles day?_ Glen sighed exasperatedly. Nobody had been this interested in her before. Plus, she was a little miffed that she hadn't said the first word.

Glen looked up to see a taller, black woman. Very pretty and with a face that screamed 'I've got my shit together'. She was looking at Glen as if she was an interesting piece of clothing.

"It's Glen. And you?"

"Jacqui." A brilliant smile as she stepped closer. "Saw you walking alone. Haven't really had any time to say hello. Been pretty hopping around here. What with your arrival."

There was a cultured note to the woman's voice. Big city, but slowed down from being around country bumpkins for a while. There was humor behind every word she had said, which spoke a lot about how she was taking the end of the world.

Glen nodded. Perhaps this lady wouldn't be too bad.

"Heard you came with those skin-head, KKK loving brothers."

...Or not.

It was a statement of a fact more than a slur or anything like that, and Glen could accept it from the woman of color more so than anyone else at camp. The redneck brothers had called her people worse things. Had called her, herself worse things. If memory served her right, Merle had yelled some choices words out about taking a roll in their tent later. Words not appropriate for children to hear.

"That's me," Glen affirmed. "They have names, too. Merle and Daryl."

"I think I remember hearing that," Jacqui said, a finger to her chin as she tried to remember. "Somewhere in between the 'f' bombs, lady parts, and female dogs."

Jacqui amended, with an audibly eye-roll.

"Only been here a few days. Not nearly enough time to get everything right."

"You've got a point there," Glen conceded refusing to apologize, already getting tired of talking to new people. This Jacqui was starting to get good though. She had spunk.

This was the second time that a woman jumping her bones today, unfortunately and Glen wasn't a social person by any stretch of the imagination. It was grating on her nerves that she hadn't been the one to start either of the contacts, but something about talking with Jacqui was much more soothing than Carol had been.

"Did you want to say something else? Or just introduce yourself?" Glen questioned curiously.

Jacqui shrugged.

"We don't have many survivors join us. Most of the camp is in an uproar over... you guys. Mostly the bigger one. Marlin?"

Of course it's _only_ Merle. Glen snarled in her mind. It was always only Merle.

Daryl they could deal with because he was useful, good looking, and didn't yell at the children and Glen herself didn't really cause any drama (unless someone started it of course, because she **finished** _it,_ even if they didn't know that yet) - but as soon as Merle came into the conversation it was as if all bets were off. Basically everyone she had overheard talking about them had slammed the man through the mud.

Glen was frankly sick of it.

Giving Jacqui the sweetest smile she could Glen said, "Yes, well the rest of the camp can kindly **fuck off**. We've survived their opinions this long - it's not going to hurt us any."

Jacqui didn't respond in the normal way, simply laughed and nodded her head. "I guess that was deserved. Much like whatever I'll yell at Merle whenever I see him... What's with you and them anyway?"

So she wasn't going to back down. Alright. Glen could deal with that. If she was that balls-y then Glen didn't mind being blunt and to the point.

"Nothing much." Glen said trying to explain the extremities of their relationship. "They saved my life and I don't mind them. We can live with each other without wanting to kill each other. We've made it work."

Glen could only shrug, knowing it sounded weak.

"And you're not in a relationship with either of them?" Jacqui asked, eyebrow raised disbelievingly.

 _Ah. That was what she wanted._ Glen wanted to roll her eyes. Gossip for the water-hole.

"Not that I know of," Glen stated flippantly.

"Oh."

"Are the hundred questions done now?" Glen wondered.

Jacqui's shrewd eyes narrowed and she nodded. "It was nice to meet and get to know ya a little. I'll be seeing you around camp."

And with her head held high she walked off, into the throng of tents. Glen was a little confused by the abrupt departure but decided against trying to understand it. Women. Even she admitted that her gender had their... _moments_.

* * *

"Anything new?" Merle asked as Glen entered their campgrounds.

"Shane wanted to try Conyer..." She said as she sat on a log by the unlit-fire, picking at her hair. "I convinced him it was empty. Now he's looking at Atlanta as a possibility. Told him about my scouting it. He's honestly considering it."

Merle looked at her like she was crazy, but somehow there was respect in his gaze. Respect for a crazy-ass plan. Perhaps even for her.

"Why'd you go and do a thing like that?"

"Adventure, my good old redneck dearie," Glen stated as she picked up a half-full water bottle and downed it. "Adventure, action, and stupidity. The only thing left to live for."

Merle let out an ugly laugh that was one of the most real sounds Glen could acknowledge in this broken world.

"I'll drink to that. Lord knows I'd drink to that." He said, raising his own water bottle.

Daryl walked in on that, a string of squirrels, rabbits, and a bird over his shoulder. Blood dripped down his dirty shoulder. "What'r we drinkin' to?"

"Stupidity, recklessness, and the end of the world," Glen announced, leaning back to stretch. "The usual."

Daryl set down his catch and then looked at the both of them like they were crazy. "You both forget the part where we don't have any beer?"

Merle glared. "Wish I coulda forgot that part, p _retty bo_ y."

Daryl just snorted and waved Glen over. "Got sum squirrels. Ya said ya wanted to learn to skin 'em, right?"

With a smile Glen jumped to her feet. "Course I did, _pretty boy._ "

The echo of Merle was playful and Daryl glared at her for it, but allowed her to sidle up to him. He was in the process of unhooking the Squirrels and the like from the line - separating them into piles. Probably focusing just on teaching her at the moment.

Daryl was thoughtful like that, occasionally.

"Take the squirrels and we'll head off a bit. Don't want none of those critters coming to our camp."

It was easy following Daryl's orders, Glen decided as she proceeded to trail after him to the outward part of the forest - a handful of squirrels to accompany her. He was a very good teacher with a sure hand and even more confidence in his knowledge.

Once they had gotten far enough away, Daryl dropped down to a knee and laid out his catch, before twirling a knife out of his boot and presenting it to her blade in palm. "Take it."

"I'm guessing it's like rabbit, right? Up the middle and side to side?" Glen asked as she took the blade and knelt next to Daryl. He smelt of old wood and sweat, and a good dose of blood. Everyday Daryl. There was a certain comfort in Daryl's particular brand of B.O..

"Yup." He stated, and then proceeded to show her exactly how to do the first squirrel. Glen glanced to one of the dead animals she'd sat in front of her, watching the guidelines in the fur on Daryl's and then glancing back at her own.

Going slowly so she could watch and catch on, Daryl gutted the first squirrel. Adding in a few comments here and there about the fragility of bones, where certain organs were and the like. Professional and classy as only a hunter could do.

Glen always marveled that he could do such amazing and deadly work with his hands. The same hands that could hold a Walker still and then stab it straight through its brain could also clean a gun, braid rope, and carefully thread a needle for wound patchings. They also could be gentle when the moment called for it - like when she'd needed help learning to focus and target with a scope for the first time. Or...

Well there were lots of times she shouldn't be thinking of as they removed organs from a dead animal.

It was quiet as Glen started on her squirrel, shakily learning the ins and outs of the dead animal as Daryl watched. She did a presentable job, and Daryl clucked over it minutely before handing her another and starting on another himself.

He was a big supporter of 'learn to do it then do it again. Then do it right.'

She smiled, taking it as a job well done as they worked side by side. Cleaning the nine squirrels and then burying the innards. They took the hearts and a few other organs that could be slipped into food without the masses getting too nauseous. Glen was slow on the squirrels, so Daryl had the other animals cut and gutted before she was done.

"What was that I heard about Atlanta?" Daryl asked as he gathered up the stiff bodies.

Glen blinked, forgetting in the afternoon of animal butchery of what had happened in the morning. "Oh. Uhm, Shane wants to send out a party to look for medical supplies and stuff. Wanted to go to Conyer, but told him Atlanta would be better."

"Ya did?" Daryl snorted. "Why'd ya go and say a thing like that?"

Glen rolled her eyes. "I'm bored, and its the truth."

"Ya're that bored ya wanna go on a **suicide** mission?" Daryl snorted out a laugh, "Guess nothing much has changed since Conyer."

He looked Glen over, as if trying to hound out the subtle signs of her lying to him. There were none, because she knew how to hide them. If her lips twitched a little, finally failing to keep it in, then he only noticed it then.

"Ya don't like these people near enough to risk yer life fur 'em." Daryl decided to the wind as they reached the camp that was in full gear. "That' I know."

"Maybe I do." Glen said.

Daryl didn't bother to give a reply to that lie.

The camp was now in full-swing. Women and children were following their routines to the letter - getting laundry together, stoking the fires, and playing around (for the children). The men stood together in clumps, watching over everything with their guns at hand. The paranoia in their eyes was haunting.

"Come on," Daryl said as he turned towards the middle of camp. "These squirrels ain't gonna cook themselves."

* * *

"Quite a haul." Lori praised as she looked over the clump of squirrel, rabbit, and duck corpses.

Daryl shrugged and Glen stayed silent.

Glen didn't have anything against Lori, but Daryl wasn't the most talkative of people. Unless it was to curse someone out, order someone around, or when he was pissed - shit on their entire lives. Thoroughly. So she had kind of picked up on being silent as a form of being 'ok' and not _angry_. Lori had not figured that out about the redneck.

The rest of camp had yet to pick up on that kind of silent communication as well.

Lori sighed. "Think the supply will run out soon?"

"Hasn't been getting too scarce." Daryl answered to the question in as polite a tone as he could. More of a grunt. "I give it a week."

Lori hummed in the back of her throat. In agreement, perhaps.

"Well. Thanks for the meat, Daryl." Lori said with a tight smile, holding up a few of the carcasses to check them over. Her eye expertly roving the goods. "Should make a good stew for tonight. Y'all are welcome to the main fire if you're feeling up to it."

She didn't look away from the catch, but it was clear she was eager to hear an answer to her question-not-question. Daryl and Glen had become acceptable at wordless communication. He shrugged, she took it as the choice being up to her, and she shrugged back returning the choice to him. Daryl simply rolled his eyes. Great. It was up to Glen to decide if they were going to be sociable.

"We'll think about it."

Lori gave her a hard stare, as if thinking over every angle, then nodded. Sharply.

If she also watched as the two foreigners walked away, she didn't announce it like the rest of the camp was sure to do.

* * *

So there it is. Uhm, I love reviews? Mostly because I like to hear what you guys want from the story. And it helps me as a writer to get a feel for what needs to be done.

So hope you enjoyed. No clue for the next chapter... Hopefully soon? It is for NaNoWrimo now so... :D


	5. Along Came the Sheriff

Latest chapter. Sorry that I didn't get it out sooner. I've had it written for almost a week now and it's just kind of been glaring at me to post it. The next chapter is giving me some trouble, but I would like to finish at least 50 k words for NanoWrimo so we'll see what happens.

So here it is.

Warnings: As usual Language (Glen's turned into quite the potty-mouth), Some gore as usual, and I really can't think of anything else.

This is Walking Dead fanfiction... It's bound to get nasty.

Also (Just in case it isn't all that clear):

This "TALKING" is just regular talking

This **:TALKING:** is Radio Talking.

 _Italics_ is usually Glen's thoughts.

* * *

**Along Came the Sheriff**

* * *

Glen's motto in this new life was: Walk quiet, like you're not walking at all.

And it appeared, she was the only one who thought it was a valid _fucking_ motto.

The symptoms of surviving the apocalypse were back for the first time in almost five days. Pulse rushing, harsh breathing, and eyes erratically unable to stay on one thing and one thing only. A running record, Glen had to acknowledge. Panic and paranoia were back in her mind, as she seized up the area around her. It came from the fact that she was now in the danger zone; before she had simply been paranoid for the sake of her livelihood at camp.

Both valid places to freak out, really.

She and the five other dumb-asses - Okay. Fine. Four dumb-asses and one murderous ass-hat. The four included Jacqui, T-Dog who was a shade darker than Jacqui and had one of the most uproarious voices Glen had ever heard, Andrea one of the only other women in camp who didn't scream at the sight of blood, and Morales, who was of Mexican descent and therefore Merle hated him just as much as anyone else of different colored skin.

Merle was only there because he didn't think anyone going was **competent** and able to keep up with her. A complement as well as a slap to their faces, she knew. He didn't say it in so many words - more just grunted a volunteered hand wave. It was in the way he glared contemptuously at everyone else that gave him away. Daryl hadn't been fucking 'allowed' to go because their deal with the camp stated he was to bring in the big-game and only then they could stay.

Unless Glen or Merle proved they could be useful for things other than 'taking up camp space'.

_Fucking hypocrites._

"Do you think we can-"

" _Shhhhhhh_." Glen fairly hissed as low as she could.

Morales wouldn't shut up.

The voice came back even quieter. "I was just going to ask if-"

" _No_."

What the fuck was so hard for everyone to understand? Walkers _liked_ noise. Therefore, don't make noise. Whispering was noise. Walking was noise. Therefore everyone should just shut the fuck up while in a fucking danger zone.

Glen thought that was common sense.

How was that so hard to understand? Before they had even been within a mile of the city - Glen had beaten it into their heads. With words, because she wasn't the most physically endowed, but she thought it was pretty clear.

Don't talk. Don't breath. Don't make any sudden movements that can call attention to you. Don't do anything that **looks** like you're alive.

Her paranoid didn't wane for nothing as they farther their trek into the city - which was good. Kept her on her toes. They even made it into the department store (after skirting around buildings and jumping from fire escape to fire escape and taking a pit stop to grab some food) and started going to town - grabbing the supplies they needed.

She even found a new pair of jeans, which she stuffed in her backpack, a long sleeved black shirt and a vest to go over it - perfect for a hidden gun. Boots that were slide on hurriedly to replace the one's that were currently falling apart. Glen was set. Now they just needed to grab everything before things went to the shitter.

Which, really, Glen should have known was going to be sooner rather than later.

They were in fucking **Atlanta** , afterall.

At least she had enough time to grab what she had needed...

"Damnit Glen, I thought you said we were the only one's here." Jacqui said, looking out the second story window, catching everyone's attention.

Glen, hands full of soup cans and packing them away into T-dog's bag, turned to look at the darker skinned woman. "We are."

Everyone froze except for the burly redneck. He shouldered Jacqui aside roughly to look out the window also. Getting a 'fuck you' for his troubles as the taller woman walked out of the way.

Merle, very aware of the no talking rule, snarled in a whisper that still managed to be loud, "Then who's the fucking park ranger riding the fucking horse?"

_What?_

Glen hurried over to see for herself. Shouldn't have been surprised when what greeted her was the empty street and one stupid-ass guy riding a **horse** down the desolate streets. _At a fucking walks pace. Like it was a walk in the park._

"What the hell is he doing?" Glen asked no one in particular. "There's a walker hoard on the other side of the _building_."

Which was _entirely true_. Glen had seen it herself when she had given the second floor, which they currently were on, a look over. The dumb-ass was on the only street not _infested_ with walkers. That in itself was impressive, because she wasn't just thinking of the streets directly around them either. Every street had a walker.

Did the dumbass just ride on past them?

All other streets so far, were completely infested or at least somewhat. Dumb-ass was on the solely Walker-free road.

That fact was on it's way to being changed and it had Glen panicking.

"We've got to warn him." T-Dog said, gaping out at the sight same as everyone else.

"He's gonna get himself killed."

"Why the hell is he here?"

_Where did he come from?_

It was mass panic for the four dumb-asses minus Glen and Merle. Andrea and Jacqui started up a racket as they both tried to figure out a way to help him. T-Dog was searching for something, frantically looking around the small convenience store they were in. Morales couldn't tear his eyes away from the slow-going man. A mantra of "Oh man, oh man, oh man" running out of his mouth.

Merle was just kind of looking at them all in disgust.

"This ain't gonna fucking end well. Not for us and not fur him." Merle said, in all his wise wisdom. He stated it like he stated anything worth saying - as if it was a fucking prophecy he was speaking.

Glen glared.

"Shut up."

"Open the window!" Andrea demanded, pushing against the small crowd. Her eyes were shining with some kind of _brilliantly,_ horrible plan. "We'll call out to him. Talk to him. Get him to turn back. He'll stop before he even **touches** the other side of the building."

 _Aww hell, no._ Glen could see where this was going. Could see it all going downhill. She was a strategist as much as she was a cowardly-scout. Find the least path of resistance and push until you come out on top.

Noise is what Andrea was suggesting. The one thing Glen had absolutely banned. Not even Merle tried to argue before, so why now?

Glen grabbed Andrea's hand before she could get close enough to the glass to find the latch and yanked her back. "No noise."

Andrea looked offended. "What? Why? He's gonna _die_."

"It'll attract the Geeks!" Glen stated, trying to keep her panic down. If they messed with her plan, none of them might make it out alive.

This was just supposed to be a get-in-get-out. Snatch and grab then run for it.

Of fucking course the first time Glen goes anywhere without Daryl or alone - this happens.

Fate hated her. What had she done? Was this for the time in tenth grade, behind the bleachers with that Noah kid? If it was than Glen was more fucking sorry than she had never been for messing around with someone behind their girlfriends back.

"But he could **die**." Jacqui said her voice sharp, backing up Andrea. There was a certain kind of innocence in these people that Glen could feel. "We've _got_ to help him."

The rest of the group agreed, except for Merle. And subsequently Glen.

"Let 'em get chomped." Merle snorted, looking out to see the poor soon-to-be-walker-meat slowing his pace. "His fault for comin' in ta fuckin' Atlanta."

 _This was so not going according to plan._ Glen lamented as she rubbed her brow. _Why wasn't it going to plan._

On one hand, Merle was completely, utterly right. The guy riding the horse was probably gonna be dead before they could get to him, or do anything for him. Really. He was dead-meat walking. The clopping of the hooves would give him a way soon enough, and the man was stupid enough to be packing quite a lot of ammo but only able to shoot with one hand.

He was good as dead.

On the other hand, the one that she buried deep-deep down inside of herself - she knew they had to help him. Knew that living with the guilt of just letting someone, whom they all could save, die... it was starting to look like an option she would rather not embrace.

Plus, she couldn't just let someone get bit because of her negligence. Not like Doug.

Never again. She'd promised to be loyal to the Dixon's and to never allow anything like Doug to happen again.

It had been going really well too.

"We've got to help him." T-Dog demanded. The two other women nodding their agreement. "If none of y'all are gonna help - I can do it. I'll go save his sorry ass -"

"I'm with ya!" Morales almost shouted Glen's ear off.

Glen rolled her eyes, watching the slow work of the man walking in the street. The noise of the others in her group was getting to be roaring loud. Which had her hoping fervently that there were no walker's ready to jump out of closets at them. She'd only been able to scout so much.

"Would you shut up," Glen demanded, watching everyone fall silent.

For some reason, probably because she was the one leading the search party in the first place, they all respected her 'leadership'. They still could be dicks about it, but for the most part - the men were the only one's who had a big problem taking any guidance from a women. The fact that the men were also, thankfully, all followers in mind-set if nothing else helped a butt-ton as well.

Excluding Merle as always.

"Oh yeah?" T-Dog growled. Actually growled at her. "I'm not just going to sit here and wait -"

Merle, hateful of just about anyone darker than Glen, snarled. "Fuck you **nigger** \- "

 _ **Not**_ _what she needed._ Merle throwing around slurs like candy. That would end badly. She needed quiet to think.

She cut both of them off with an angry glare. Pushed Merle back before he could start one of his 'barfight brawls'. "I'm thinking."

"Don't fucking start a racist-pissing match before you've both forgotten we're in a _Walker zone._ Got it? Do that when we get back to _camp_."

 _ **IF**_ _we get back to camp_ , Glen thought shakily to herself.

Ignoring the now heated air between the two beefy idiots - Glen tried to think of some way to pull this off. Turning away angrily to glare at the helpless man on the horse. He looked alert, even as he trotted into a danger-zone. Glen couldn't stop herself from feeling horrible for actually contemplating her decision over someone's life.

It must have shown on her face.

The Dixon brother had spent enough time around her to know what that meant. He barked off a laugh.

"Ya're gonna help him?" Merle asked in distaste. "That man needs divine inter'vention - Not a scrawny asian to save his ass."

Glen just looked at him blankly for a second, her mind running a hundred miles an hour. Divine intervention? Say... technology?

The pieces of a puzzle were coming together. It was clear as her brain worked and she stared shrewdly and unseeingly into the distance. There was a tank out on Geek-avenue - right?- one that had been mostly abandoned after the first bombing efforts failed. Glen knew this on account that anything within a quarter mile of the store block was seared into her brain. If the guy somehow survived and didn't run into a building because of a plethora of reasons then maybe - And there was also an intercom in the store plus - wasn't there security around here somewhere?

A plan sparked in her mind.

"You and you." Glen pointed to Merle and Morales. "Roof. Wait for whatever I tell you to do."

"I ain't-" Merle started, but Glen resolutely snarled at him.

"Not fucking right now, Merle." Glen snarled. "We're going to be surrounded whether or not I help him - _capiche_?"

She turned to T-Dog ignoring the two she had just ordered around. "I need you to help me find where security is at."

"Why?" The bigger man asked but backed down substantially when she snarled at him.

"Cause I _fucking_ said so."

"What about me?"

Jacqui had stayed kind of silent but Glen knew that fire wouldn't be quenched for long.

"And me?" Andrea asked, straightening her neck and holding her head high.

"Keep look out, just tell me if he dies. We'll be back in a minute."

She didn't wait for any kind of confirmation from anyone. Most everyone was on board, except Merle but she hoped he would follow along just... well because. He had a very good survival-rate for stupid shit. She knew. She heard the stories from Daryl. If anyone was going to keep things semi-sane well she went off to pull off a less-than-kind-of-sane plan - it was going to be Merle.

It took them about forty or fifty seconds before they found out that lady luck liked them. More than usual. The security kiosk was right next door, and - holy shit it actually had a police scanner, three radios, and a taser. All lying as cute as could be on the desk.

Knowing not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Glen snatched up all three. The police scanner she pushed off on T-Dog. "Let's go."

"Where to?" T-Dog questioned as he kept stride with her.

"I'm going to the next building over, through the alley - fire escape. If he dies before I get anywhere close, I'll call over."

She shoved two of the radios into his hands. "If Merle and Morales haven't left yet, give them one - else give both the girls one and tell them to keep a look out. Radio me if anything goes tits-up."

T-Dog could only nod his head dazedly but with a certain amount of militaristic-obedience as she threw her almost empty back-pack over her shoulder, shoved the radio clip onto her butt-pocket, taser into the jacket pocket, and set off at a jog towards the alley. She knew that there were sparsely few Walkers there, and she could outrun until she got to the fire escape.

If they saw her, of course. If not she would walk like she owned the place.

As she was running, dodging around and over obstacles - she tried to reason with herself why she would feel guilt if the ass-hat got himself killed. He wouldn't be the first to die, and he wouldn't be the last. He wasn't the only idiot to walk into Atlanta and get munched.

Especially since Shane refused to spare a person to send out to paint over the signs a warning.

Somehow, that just made her more determined to at least try and help him.

Saving dumb-asses. Maybe that would be her lot in life... Since she hadn't been able to save the one dumb-ass who had mattered.

It took her a minute or so to get from the department store to the alley (a few Geek's milling about like stupefied drunk people stalling her until they turned away listening to a scuffle that was most likely the idiot), and then into the second floor of the next building.

Only to watch as the idiot walked right around the corner - straight into at least fifty walkers. The horse, understandably rearing and tossing him a bit. The clattering of hooves drawing a sound that echoed around the city.

_Shit._

Then the Walker's all noticed him, turning with a deliberate slowness bred from un-used muscles, and Glen winced as the echo of death simply stared the poor dumb-ass in the face. A stupefied face that looked as if he was still dealing with the dead rising.

What happened next was like something out of a comic strip. Not the saturday funnies either. More like an angsty-comic where the hero was facing death.

The Walkers surrounded him, coming out of every crevice the city had that connected to the intersection. A horrible half-garbled groan-moan starting and warbling. The poor man looked thunder-struck as he tried to gain control. He led the horse around in a tight circle before he realized there was no way out. And for a second, he was still. Horrible stillness. Glen watched, not breathing as the horse was swarmed and he was thrown off from a combination of Walkers and the poor horse scurrying in fright.

Then, he stumbled around, crawled frantically under the tank that he fell next to. Seconds led to half a minute, and Glen grimaced. He was dead. He had to be. Shit. What was she going to tell the others?

"Fuck." Glen sighed. "Damn it."

Then a sound.

It was hard to see what happened next, but the sound of a gunshot - echoing through the air and muffled by the huge bulk of the tank - had her gaping. Then, within a few seconds dumb-ass was at the very top of the tank, staring stupefied over the mass of dead chewing on his horse and crawling up the tank towards him.

Apparently he wasn't that much of an idiot, because he scrambled back in - closing the tank lid along with him. The clank a sound of finality in the throng of hoarse groans, whimpers of need, and growls.

_Holy shit._

He was alive.

Glen scrambled and scrabbled for her radio, turning the dial carefully at the top of the blocky box and speaking softly when the returning static seemed promising.

"Hey. You there?"

She waited a few second, cursed, and tried a new dial.

Into the radio again - "Hey. Yeah you. Dumb-ass in the tank. You there?"

A few more staticy seconds. "Fucking shit."

She snarled, turned the dial again and kept it there. Repeating her message. "You alive in there?"

She waited a few more seconds again, cursing and looking around she almost turned the dial again when a burst of static came back.

A voice, definitely how she would imagine his voice to sound. Kind of a mix between a well-bred city bloke and a texas heart-throb - except scared and shaken came on the radio. **:Hello? Hello?:**

"Holy shit you're alive." Glen let a touch of relief come through. "Damn, had me wondering."

Glen could faintly hear - _ **a woman?**_ _-_ but tried not to be offended as he threw that thought out the window.

 **:Where are you?:** Came through, crackling. **:Outside? Can you - Can you see me right now?:**

Glen smiled wryly at the radio. "Considering you're in a tank? No. But I saw you go in."

There was no response. Might as well keep talking. There wasn't much time. "You're surrounded by Geeks."

 **:Fuck.** : Came over the radio, more as a breathy little thing said mostly to himself.

"That's the bad news." Glen admitted, watching the throng below. More and more Walkers were pouring in every second. Not the worse, but definitely the bad news.

 **:There's good news?:** The man sounded oddly tense by that.

"...No."

There wasn't even a pause as the man responded back. **:Listen -** _ **whoever you are**_ **\- I don't mind telling you I'm a** _little_ **concerned in here.:**

"Fuck - fuck fuck." Glen murmured to herself, running a hand through her hair that had come out of her pony-tail. "At least you can't see them from out here... If you could see it out here - you'd be a little more than **concerned**."

The tank was now cleared at the very least, all for the Walker's more interested in the horse they could gnaw on.

 **:Listen ma'am...:** He started hesitantly, but then it wavered off. **:Got any advice for me?:**

Glen so had not signed up for this. She had said she would take the chosen volunteers in and out - smooth transition bar any problems. She said supplies. She said food, medicine, and whatever else was asked of her.

She did not fucking say rescue.

"You're best bet is to make a run for it. The Geek's are mostly concerned with your steed's demise... and flesh."

And there was a lot of it. If the Walker's throng had anything to say about it.

 **:That's it? Make a run for it?:** The voice said, sounding surprised and flat.

"Yeah. Best bet. You've got eyes outside now." Glen confirmed, trying to slow her own heartbeat as she came up with a plan to get him out. She watched outside as most of the Walkers left the tank for the... poor animal.

"There's one Geek left on the tank now. The rest are focused on the - the **feeding frenzie**."

Her voice may have spiked a little on account of the blood seeping into the cement.

Man was that gruesome. Even from this height. She took a deep breath as she tried to gauge his reaction. "You with me so far?"

**:So far.:**

_Okay, good. Mostly calm response._ He'd yet to yell at her - meaning maybe he was a level headed individual who just was having a bad day.

They really should have put those signs up warning people away from Atlanta.

 _Focus._ Glen shouted to herself in her mind. _Get the poor dumb-ass out first before forming any kind of opinion about Shane's stupid ass leadership._

"Okay. On the other side of the tank, it's less crowded. Maybe ten or fifteen Geek's."

Her mind formulated that if he was good with a gun, he might be able to pull it off. "If you can get out, while they are still distracted you stand a good chance of getting to the alley- "

This was all banking on the fact he had some kind of weapon. Glen had only seen him tumble downward, dropping that huge duffle bag. "Got ammo?"

**:In that dufflebag I dropped out there - can I get to it?:**

"Forget the dufflebag, you go for it - you're Geek-meat." Glen hissed. "Not an option at this point. What else have you got?"

**:Hang on.:**

The silence was disturbing, especially as she knew there was action going on in that tank. She leaned her head against the surprisingly unbroken glass, the cool nice against her flushed skin, watching the Walkers and trying to see if she could give him any more head's up where he would need it.

**:I got a Beretta, one clip, fifteen rounds.:**

_That was a small hand-gun right?_ Merle had taught her how to use it almost a week ago. Fifteen was about how many Walkers standing between him and her. The straight away path, anyway.

He better be a good shot.

"Make 'em count."

There was nothing and Glen decided to just steamroll right into the plan. "Get out on the right side of the tank, opposite of the Geek's feast - make it to the alley. It's about fifty - forty meters. Be there."

She waited impatiently for the answer.

**:Hey - What's your name?:**

"Have you been fucking listening. We haven't got the time! You've got a small window of opportunity."

Then she turned down the sound and took off.

Getting into the alley was easy, so easy in fact she was almost not paranoid. Except - she totally was. Her breathing was light, as she had been running around a lot in camp with Daryl and a few of the kids that had grown on her.

Hopefully, if he had left exactly when she had, they would get there at the same time.

The gunshots, one after the other, getting louder and more pronounced made it easy to follow him. When she finally did greet him, it was to a gun in her face.

"Whoah - I'm alive. Not dead!" She stated, holding up her hands as she darted back down from where she came, closing the gate. There was no time to lose. There were hundreds of walker's following them now. All smelling fresh-flesh and lots of noise.

"Come on," She shouted, noticing his limp. He hadn't had that before.

_Oh shit. Was he bit?_

_Can't worry about that now._ Glen decided. Egging the guy on.

From there, it was a race to the rusting ladder.

"What the hell are you doing?" Glen demanded as she started climbing sparing a glance to see him shoving his gun in his pants. He followed directly after, with Geek's swiping at his pants leg. There was a second of her thinking he was going to get pulled back down into the throng - but she was proved wrong. He crawled at a steady pace up the ladder like a good boy.

Then, as they both made it to the relative safety of the fire-escapes platform, they finally got a good look at each other.

The first thing Glen saw was 'SHERIFF', tan, and black. _A policeman? Really?_ That's different, Glen breathed deeply - watching the poor cop gasp for oxygen. He was really thin, almost looking anemic. He had brown hair, peppered by the occasional white.

"Fucking hell I just saved George Clooney." Glen muttered to herself, rubbing her temples. "What the hell were you thinking anyway? Ride in? Clean up the town? Save the world?"

"Wasn't my intention -" The out of breath sheriff said, coaxing life into his lungs.

"Whatever. Yee-fucking-haa." Glen said, catching his eye. "Still a dumbass."

They both simply breathed for a few more moments, the stench of the dead reaching Glen's nose and making her want to vomit.

"Names Rick." Dumb-ass said, giving his hand over. "Thanks."

Glen look at the appendage for a long moment before repeating her name and shaking the proffered limb. "You're welcome."

She took a closer look at his face. The gaunt lines and worried crinkle to his brow looked generations old. He had kind eyes, which made Glen relax marginally. She hadn't seen someone with actual _kind_ eyes for a while now. Her grandmother and that one homeless lady had been the very few she had seen. Her grandmother had always said to trust eyes, because they told more about a person than their words could reveal.

Daryl would sometimes get this look... but he was the only one. Women were a different type - their eyes either hard or a mix between kind and afraid. Merle's eyes were lies, but only because they looked happy around the crinkles and crows-feet but blank everywhere else.

This man was different. Glen could feel it.

A rattling made her look down as Rick leaned over to shove the useless gun in her backpack.

"Oh no." She groaned, seeing that a few had almost gotten the hang of climbing - or gripping and pulling over each other. Stepping on each other as they scrabbled for them. "We gotta get going."

Glen shrugged her backpack farther up on her back - securing it.

Looking up at the ladder that had to span almost half a mile upwards - Glen tried not to think of looking down.

"At least the fall would kill us." She mentioned thoughtfully, turning to make sure Rick understood this was the only way.

Rick gave her a disbelieving stare.

"More glass half-full kind of girl." She shrugged before starting the long climb.

* * *

 **:What tha fuck was up wit all those shots?:** Merle asked over the radio, his voice more of a growl.

 **:Yeah,:** Andrea's voice came on. **:Every Walker for miles is coming now!:**

"Not my fucking fault." Glen stated glaring at poor Rick. They had stopped on a roof-top to catch their breath and see if anyone else had a radio. It just so happened the rest of the campers had given the radios to the right people. "I saved the guy. I'm aware it's gonna suck getting out now. But this is what you guys wanted."

 **:I didn't:** Merle grumbled, snarling and then turning his radio off presumptuously. **:Fuck this.:**

"Don't care. Just have Morales and T-Dog ready for us when we get to the alley."

She got an affirmative from Andrea and that was all she needed. Merle was off the radio, she knew.

"Come on." She commanded Rick.

"Why'd you save me?" He asked, more of a soft-spoken demand.

Glen startled to a stop, frozen in step.

There were many reasons why. Her group were pansies. They demanded she rescue him. She could even play the hero. She could claim it was just something she needed to do. The endless amount of 'things' was overwhelming. But Glen didn't let any of it show.

"Call it naive hope that if I was that far up shit creek without a paddle, someone would help me." Then she smiled at that train of thought. "Guess I'm a bigger dumbass than you, huh?"

Rick didn't answer, just followed her as she led the way back to the department store.

He was quiet the entire way after that.

* * *

They made it to the alley only to be confronted by two walkers looking over at them. Their dumb little brains flared to life and they were turning slowly, limping towards them with some kind of light in their cold, dead eyes. When, of course, T-Dog and Morales come busting out of the side door. They were dressed in swat-gear that they had probably undressed from some poor dead man.

They beat the Walker's heads to mush with relish as Glen and Rick watched in appreciation.

Glen grabbed Rick's biceps to pull him along, to get him inside before the other Walker's heard anything. He followed like a puppy as she skipped nervously along.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Andrea had Rick against stacks of crates, gun forced into his face.

"You son of a bitch!" She snarled with her teeth barred like a dog. "I'm gonna kill you."

 _Okay_. Not how Glen thought she would be greeted. She had been the only ready to scream for him to stop in the street.

Glen could only stand and glance between the campers, trying to gauge what all she had missed in being gone for like ten minutes. Hadn't Andrea been the one adamant on bringing Rick in alive?

"Hey, hey, hey," Morales said, ripping off his mask. "Back off, Andrea."

"This isn't going to help anything, Andrea." Jacqui said, trying to calm the situation down.

"Okay - okay - calm the -" Glen tried to intervene, and then Andrea had the audacity to raise the gun higher. "Andrea put the damn gun down."

Glen noticed in that moment that the safety was on. There would be no shooting with it like that.

Andrea just bemoaned their situation. _Damn it._ Glen had thought she was at least semi-sane. That was the only reason she had agreed to take her along. Jacqui was a saint as she pulled the distraught woman back.

"Why? Huh? We're dead because of him."

"Oh for fuck's sake, Andrea - get a grip." Glen rolled her eyes, swatting the gun down. "If we die it's because of our own stupid fault - not because we -"

Loud, single shots were fired. One after the other. It echoed in a way that told Glen all she needed to know. Someone was shooting outside, down at the Geek's, with a pretty powerful gun. The only person who had brought along any kind of artillery contrary to what she wanted, was Merle. He was also the only one not with all of them.

_Damn. It. All. To. Hell._

"What was that?" Rick asked, eyes wide as he watched the rest of them all tense up and look to Glen for guidance.

"Merle." Damnit. "I leave for less than five minutes and... agghhh!"

This was karma. For what, she didn't know, but it must have been bad.

"You," She pointed roughly at Andrea, who dropped her gun into her waist band. "Don't kill the damn sheriff - okay?"

"Whatever." Pouting lips and all.

Five year olds. All of them.

"I'm going to go stop him, before he gets us all killed." Glen announced as she stomped away, set on slapping Merle into gear.

She didn't notice basically everyone was following her, intently - especially the sheriff. She was much too pissed at the elder Dixon.

Which, well, she really should have known leaving him alone would have consequences.

* * *

So any thoughts?

Drop me a line. Or review. Or both.

:]


	6. Round, Round Get Around

 

She arrived onto the roof cursing Merle's stupidity and was stopped-dead by the same thing.

Merle was cackling like a mad man. Head thrown back after he shot clear through a walkers skull with precision ill-begotten of a drunken man. Even if he wasn't exactly drunk at the moment. It was the happiest Glen had seen him in a long while. Probably since they had gotten to the camp.

It was also clear that his joy came with a tinge of insanity.

_Damn it. Why the hell was it now that Merle went bat-shit crazy? Why couldn't it be when Daryl was around to beat the livin' hell out of him?_

"Merle," Glen called, her voice getting caught in the wind. "What the _actual_ fuck?"

The man turned towards her with a kind of insanity she'd never really seen on him. It was all whimsy and smiles and there was an undertone of a bite that made her almost flinch back.

"Hey _Chink-a_! How's my _little asian-heroine_ doin?" Merle called back, raising the gun again and shooting. The loud resonance and then the inaudible splatter as the head exploded effecting him as much as a slap with a wind gust might. That is to say, not at all.

"Hey! Hey!" Morales shouted, as he entered onto the rooftop, following closely behind Glen. Then behind him the two women and T-Dog next. Rick came slowly last. Shaken from having a gun thrown in his face after single-handedly calling all the Zombies to their position.

"Merle!" Andrea shouted next. "You dumb-ass! Stop."

Suddenly everyone was shouting at Merle to stop, except the sheriff but he was just confused by the turn of events. Probably. Glen turned to yell at everyone else (to get them all to shut up because she had it _handled_ ) only to see Merle from the corner of her eye drop the rifle slightly and turn towards everyone else.

Then she was pushed aside roughly by T-Dog and that was when she knew things were going to go to shit. Fast.

_She was not wrong._

"Put the god-damn gun down, you fat bastard. You tryin' to kill us all?"

Glen could only watch in horror as T-Dog did the one thing you shouldn't do to Merle short of being a different color.

Act like you're better.

T-Dog had done both.

"Man I knew you were a _dumb mother-fucker,_ but I didn't think - " T-Dog started but never finished.

A fist made sure of that. Merle's fist. Right into the right side of T-Dog's jaw. The crunch of power as it landed and toppled the large man was sickening.

Silence split the roof in half.

"Wanna see a fat-bastard kill us all, huh **nigger**?"

Glen could only describe the sensation of watching the first punch, then the next, and the few others that followed after and landed with crackling wetness - an out of body experience. Hell yeah she knew he was racist and bad tempered almost all of the time - but he was Merle. Had saved her life. Had protected her ass many times from zombies and the occasional human.

Yes, he was bad-tempered to most people, even her in the very beginning of their fledgling relationship — but... She could look past all of that crap because she knew she would be dead without him.

It didn't mean it didn't shock the living shit out of her when Merle decided to go ape-shit over the poor man. Or when he did something more than just beat him. Glen shocked herself when she allowed it.

So she stood by as she allowed Merle to... be Merle. To show an ugly side of herself she wasn't sure if she was ready to see. Wasn't quite ready to face.

The roof was silent as the two wrestled, T-Dog losing something fierce.

Everyone was soon yelling, trying to stop Merle without daring to touch either of the brawling men but not even beginning to slow the red-neck down. Only succeeded to pissing him off more, really. And as T-Dog stopped fighting back, either from the trauma or shock - Merle slowly stopped, too.

Dazed, Glen gaped as Merle then rose, leaving T-Dog on the ground. There was pure hate in the man's gaze as he sneered down at T-Dog. Adding insult to injury, Merle spat onto the downed man's shirt and then rubbed it in with his boot before straightening out and then bringing his rifle up. Showing it off as if to say - l _ook at my new shiney toy._

"Alright, you _pussies_ ," Merle snarled. "We're gonna have our'selves a little _**pow-wow**_."

Glen felt a little more comfortable as Merle came back down to earth. Still wide-eyed and staring, but more than ready to accept what had happened and then try to move forward. To fix it. She rubbed her hand over her face, feeling a migraine coming on. Did he have to have his moment now?

"Do we really have to _fucking_ do this right now Merle?"

He turned to look at her, that crazed light in his eye. It was a dangerous thing, but Glen could only hope he wouldn't try and kill her. She was the only one who knew how to get them out of here in relatively safety.

Plus, from what little trust she had given out, Glen wished Merle would be what she hoped he would be.

Perhaps it was the fact that nothing had quite sunk in yet - that allowed Glen to be so brave in the face of pure insanity. Or maybe it was that Glen knew exactly what it felt like to be the brunt of far-worse than watching someone get beat.

Really it didn't matter.

It seemed like she had to be the one to stand up.

"Yes - we **do** gotta do this right now, _Chink-a_." Merle stated, as if simply talking about the weather as T-Dog was surrounded promptly by Andrea, Jacqui, and Morales. All of them pulling him back into the safety of their arms, a few feet away from Merle.

"I've been thinking that it's time for a new way of doing things."

He allowed a small paused, where he smiled at something he said - as if it was funny only to him.

"A Democracy. Everyone loves democracies - right?" Nobody answered.

Merle answered for them.

"Course they do! Well, I'm putting myself up fer the takin. President Dixon's got a nice ring to it - don't it?"

This would not end well. Glen sighed, smashed her hand into her face hoping the pain would wake her from the strange nightmare.

"- Raise of hands, who's with me?"

The clear show of force by rifle alone had Andrea raising her hand with a grimace - smart woman but cowardly. Glen could respect that, unfortunately, because the woman had someone back at camp waiting for her. Her sister. Jacqui fearlessly raised her hand as she gave him the bird. The rest followed suit, except for Glen and T-Dog for obvious reasons.

Perhaps Glen's wasn't so obvious.

Merle technically always had her vote.

"That's right - Aww yeah." Merle smiled, lowering the gun just low enough. "Now that wasn't so-"

_-Whap-_

The audible sound of pipe hitting the back of head made Glen flinch and watch as Merle collapsed. The sheriff she had just saved walked calmly over to the downed man, dropping the weapon that had felled him, a large piece of piping. There was no hesitancy as the ex-sheriff snapped a pair of handcuffs off his belt-loop. There was a cold fury to his movements as Glen could only watch what she had assumed was a tired-anemic man single-handedly take down Merle.

Rick widely straddled the man as he leaned down to grab up his hands and handcuffed him, then fists in shirt hoisted him up.

"Listen punk," Rick no-last-name said, his breath even as he hoisted the much heavier man up a few good inches. "I might have just got here, but I think this has gone on for _long enough_. None of these people need this shit right now, got it? Nobody needs some dumb-ass coming along and proclaiming himself Hitler."

Merle smiled stupidly. "Ain't done till I say it's done, cowboy."

Rick responded by punching him straight in the jaw. Merle's head snapped back into the pipe with an air-rushing _whap_.

"Now listen here you-" Rick never got to finish.

Glen saw red. It was one thing for Merle to get into a fair _fight_ with a man about his same height and body mass. It was semi-fair. Morally unsound - sure, but _fair_. Both were at fault even if the scale tipped more so in Merle's favor for that one. It was another thing **entirely** for the man she just _saved_ to hand-cuff a man she knew _better than half of these people_ and beat him up. _While he was down_.

Glen pulled Rick off of Merle single-handedly by the back of his shirt in her pissed-off-self-righteous rage and a little of the talent she had earned in high school from cat-fights. The sheriff stumbled, slightly off balance by the angle he had been pulled and landed on the ground a foot away - only to look up at the fiery asian in shock.

"What the **fuck** do you think _you are doing._ " It was snarled, low and poisonous.

Everyone stopped moving on the roof as she spoke. The girls looked away from T-Dog with wide eyes. It was like a spell was dropped over every single one of them as she took another step forward, momentum in her step and in her throat. Fire burned in the pit of her stomach.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with _all_ of you?" Glen continued, throwing her hand accusingly at all of them. Mostly to the three men who had started it. Mostly at Rick and T-Dog. "Do you think this is a fucking game? Huh? Do you think this is a _fucking macho-man pissing match_?"

Nobody answered.

"We are currently surrounded by Walkers. They are comin' a running because he - " She waved at Rick pointedly. "Decided to come into fuckin' Atlanta and cause a ruckus. He made enough noise that I would bet half of Atlanta is now on **that** street."

Still nobody dared to comment. Mouths all shut tight from a combination of shock and fear. Wasn't it fucking dandy their survival skills came in handy when threatened by a woman half their size? And not say by the _hundreds of Geek's all ready to eat them_?

 _Where the fuck were their priorities at?_ Why couldn't this have been _avoided._

"And what do you all fucking decide to do with this knowledge? _What do you do when I let any of you have any_ _ **margin**_ _of control?_ " Glen growled, her voice turning deadly silent. Quiet, but slowly raising in tone. "Oh that's fucking right - **You all decide to fuck everything up**. Merle **fucking** decides to help ranger Rick here to make some more noise. T-Dog fucking decides to be that _**one black man**_ in every single film in the _history of forever_ to piss off the already crazy white man. And Rick beats up a man he already _subdued_ in a fit of what I can only assume is some misguided attempt at **duty**. Did I fucking miss anything?"

T-Dog's eyes were as wide as dinner plates as he held his bleeding nose and mouth, Rick was even more pale than he had been before, and Merle was looking up at her as if he was about to burst out laughing any minute. It would have been disconcerting for Glen if she didn't know _for sure_ now why he was acting like this.

Her brother had been addicted to cocaine for a good portion of her life. Granted it had been the younger years but she still remembered what he had looked like. She had recognized the signs of a man struggling with his addiction and being unable to actually find any of the white powder the second day she had been at their camp.

"Speaking of fucking missing something - Where the hell did you find the drugs, Merle? Did you snatch it from a fucking Geek? Cause that's not only unhygienic but fucking stupid. Didn't peg you for a dumbass."

"Listen sweet-heart," Merle began, his tone somewhere between high-off-his-kite and lewdly ready to catcall. "All just a big _misunderstanding_. Why don't you and me go and give them a little - "

Glen snorted in disgust, stopped him mid sentence, and stepped forward to slap him upside the head.

Merle, after being shocked forward by the slap, simply glared at her but didn't say a damn thing. Even he knew that Glen was in a tizzy. Through the haze in his mind.

His smile faded somewhat, but he must have still been on that high that only drugs could give someone. It might have only been a few minutes since he snorted any of it.

She really **couldn't** leave any of them alone for more than a few minutes.

"Sor _ry_?" Rick attempted, and it came out in a kind of stutter that would have been adorable for a full-grown man - if she wasn't completely and utterly pissed at the lot of them.

"You better fucking be sorry." Glen snorted, losing some of the fire in her voice. "Just. **Fucking damn it.** The Walkers are already trying to eat us - we don't need to start **eating** each other as well."

The wind picked up on the roof and Glen lost the rest of her ire. It melted away like a candle in the face of a flame-thrower. It dripped away to reveal what the anger had been masking. Fear. She smothered it like any good emotionally-stunted woman would. With curses and snarls and prickly shielded words.

"Anyone have any idea how to get us out of this fucking mess?"

Everyone looked at each other, worried for their very lives if they spoke not what Glen wanted. She **did** know the way out.

One hand raised slowly.

"Uhm," Jacqui stammered. "I might."

* * *

The sewers. That was their brilliant plan. Get to another, less Walker infested building.

They had come up with it after a few more minutes of awkward silence on the roof. After Jacqui had admitted that her job had been as a building inspector. Glen would have been impressed with such a job, but she was completely out of caring at the moment. Maybe she would talk with the woman later, at the moment she had a job to do.

Of course, Glen was the only one savvy enough to go through with the plan. Of course.

"You should take someone with you." Rick insisted for the third time. The first in front of the actual sewer, but still. Annoying.

"No." She answered with gritted teeth.

Hesitantly the man tried to push his point.

"It's better to go with some- "

Glen snorted. "No. It's not."

"I agree with Rick, Glen." Andrea spoke softly, for the first time since she had pointed a gun at Rick. "One of us should go with you."

 _Lord give me strength,_ Glen prayed.

"Listen, and listen well," Glen began. "First time I ever bring anyone on a trip with me that wasn't Daryl - and everything goes to shit. First time I ever bring more than _me_ and this happens -"

Rick gave her a blank look as he interrupted. "Who's Daryl?"

Jacqui had been looking down at the disgusting water pooling at the bottom of the sewer. "Her boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend." Glen stated, looking at her as if she was insane. "What the hell gave you that idea?"

Andrea was the one who answered, blinking. "Uhm, you sleep in the same tent as him."

Glen raised her eyebrow wryly. "And that automatically makes me and him an _item_? By that logic I would be having sex with **both of the Dixons**."

She ignored the shudder that passed through both of the women present.

"You guys do like everything together..." Morales even got in on the action. "We all just.. _assumed_."

What the hell was with these people and their sense of survival? They literally thought that having this discussion while their lives were on the line was **appropriate**.

Instead of answering she just turned to Rick and raised an eyebrow as if to say - _"See?"_

Apparently he didn't get it. Must not have a wife... thought he had a ring on his finger. _Dead maybe?_

"You still need someone to go with you - even if it isn't this Daryl guy."

"No."

Rick narrowed his eyes and looked her over. "It would make me feel - "

"Don't care how you feel." Glen snorted in a fit of complete honesty. "Saved your ass."

"Just take someone."

"And let them hold me back?" Glen demanded. "What if there's a hoard down there? I'm not risking my neck for someone else - none of you can run **half** as fast as I can in those tunnels... plus with how small they are - the chances of us getting nabbed and cornered increases exponentially by almost fifty percent with each person down there."

It was once again silent as they all just kind of stared at her. This time with a little more respect than fear.

"What'd you do before this?" Rick asked, blinking at her stupidly.

"Delivery driver..." Glen said, brushing back her hair into a ponytail, high up so it didn't get in her way. "Why?"

Everyone said at the exact same moment, "No reason."

Glen paused for a second before starting down the ladder. "I'm going alone. I'll tell you what I find."

"I don't like this." Rick repeated.

"Tough shit, Sherlock." Glen mumbled, watching carefully as she reached the bottom. There was nobody around dead or otherwise so she started walking as quietly as she could in the direction Jacqui had told her to go.

As Glen got farther away, Rick turned to look at the group around him.

"Is that normal?"

The two girls looked at each other before shrugging. "Probably?"

Rick wondered, briefly, if he would be better off dead.

Glen wondered as she stepped over a pile of sludge, if she should keep Merle on the roof or not.

* * *

"Sewers a bust. Alleys a bust. Roof-top is not even an option." Glen snorted in disappointment as she wrung out her pants leg that was absolutely soaked. "Any other bright ideas?"

They were all on the first floor now - watching the hoard of Walker's press against the glass, smashing faces, elbows, and whatever hard or soft surface they had with them at the time of death. One dead-woman had a rock clutched between her hands in post-mortem death-grip but was only using her shoulders to attack the first round of glass.

_Stupid Walkers. Thank god._

The girls were over by the displays and the boys were on the roof, doing god knows what. Rick was staring out the window-doors, the only guy staying on the first floor, too. His face was the picture of thoughtfulness though, and Glen narrowed her eyes. "You got anything cowboy?"

It was a testament to how much Rick must have been in on his own thoughts that he only blinked owlishly at her. "How do the Walker's know we're alive?"

Andrea had been fiddling with a necklace but looked up over the display to answer. "I always thought it was by smell and hearing. They hear a noise, they have nothing else to do but investigate and then smell that they are alive. Boom. Lunch time."

"So... why don't we mask our smell?" Rick asked, his voice similar to a man stating a very stupid idea knowing it was very stupid but going through with it out of sheer spite for his fear. "Like.. with their blood or something?"

Jacqui looked disgusted. "That's the most **and** worst -"

" - Brilliant plan ever." Glen cut Jacqui off. Her mind going a mile a minute.

"If we could mask our scent, what would be the plan after?" Glen asked Rick, closing in on him and shoving her face in his face.

"Uhm - I - I uh-h.. didn't think that far ahead." Rick stuttered, unnerved by the asian.

"Well I did." Glen stated with a grim smile. "I never actually thought it through though... There were too many variables for it to ever be an answer to **any kind** of Walker problem but the most dire... but I think with the right amount of bull-shit and can-do attitude... it's do-able."

Rick didn't know when it happened. Maybe it was when she saved his ass, or maybe it was when she yelled at them all without actually raising her voice. It could have even been when she point blank refused to back down at the Sewer.

All Rick knew was that he respected this girl more than he thought he could for only knowing her a maximum of two hours.

He'd done a lot crazier things for less.

"What do we need to do?" Rick asked, determined.

* * *

"Ya know, as much as ah love ya patting me down, Sugar," Merle stated, narrowing his eyes as she rummaged through his pockets. "I think I would like it **more** if ya stopped."

Glen snorted as she took a packet off him. It was small, but had a sizable amount of the Merle's drug of choice. He looked heartbroken as she tossed it over the edge of the building and onto the hoard. She wished vehemently one of them became addicted and then died. Again.

"Yeah, and I would like it if you _stopped_ snorting crack-cocaine," Glen wiped her hands off on her jeans as she rose. "We _both_ can't have our perfect worlds. So I'm making mine a reality."

Merle just gave her a baleful look and glanced over the edge, as if contemplating whether to jump and get his drugs. It was safe to assume his high had worn off and the pain from being punched in the face settled in. Along with the need to get the high back.

Glen snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Hey! Eyes on me!"

"What?" He snapped.

"I need your opinion."

"Sure didn't need it when ya let 'em chain me to this pipe." Shaking his handcuffed hands for good measure, he glared at her.

"Yeah, well - you were flying higher than mount Everest at the time." Glen reminded him. "Now listen. We've got a plan. A make-a-run-for-it kind of plan. Except a little more.. _flashy_."

The redneck immediately perked up at her use of the _fun_ adjective.

"I'm listening."

* * *

They had ended up snatching one of the Walker's from just outside the alley door - one of the one's that was already dead and they simply dragged it inside.

The stench was like putrid feathers, rotten meat, vomit, and fecal matter. Glen turned her nose away, willing her gag reflex to go away but only succeeding marginally before having to toss her cookies in an unused corner of the store. Andrea right beside her.

When they had both pointedly looked at Jacqui, she'd simply said, "I'm a projectile vomiter. I clean up after myself. I got this."

Glen grew queasy once more at just the thought of it. There was a name for what she was. Sympathetic vomiter - she thought it was.

What followed could only be described as something out of a sappy romance sit-com. Before allowing them to hack the poor sap up, Rick pointed out just how _poor_ the sap really had been. Forced them all to listen as he read off the name on the license still in the dead guys pocket.

There was even a moment of silence, which Glen respected - contrary to what everyone thought she would. She even bowed her head, brow furrowed.

What followed **after** was basically the ending to any Saw movie ever. And beginning. And middle. Blood, guts, and the like. Except it was spread all over Glen and Rick like peanut butter and none of it was theirs. Rick was coming because he had insisted that he was an amazing driver and was willing to risk his life and Glen because everyone just kind of accepted that she did the crazy-ass shit. It was almost guaranteed to work if she did it.

Glen knew she should feel proud they put that much trust in her, but she couldn't bring herself to even try.

With the death hanging around their heads, both literally and figuratively, Glen turned to Morales.

"Somebody better fucking unlock Merle - got it?"

The man paled, but nodded shortly.

"You ready?" Rick asked her.

"No. But let's do it."

Glen was the one who walked forward first - and pushed the door open with a big inhale.

* * *

The plan had gone off without a hitch.

Unless you included the fact that it started to _**fucking**_ _rain_ as they were half-way between no-man's land and beautiful freedom a 'hitch'. Glen could almost taste it - the freedom - past the ugly and decrepit scents around her.

Almost.

Because as the rain fell, so did the obnoxious scent of the dead. On all of them. The dead and the living.

 _Shit. SHit. SHIT._ Glen snarled to herself, picking up her pace marginally. Rick a half a step behind her.

They knew things were getting worse as Walker's bumped into them, snarling stunned for a minute before sniffing curiously. Then the sniffing was becoming longer and a low sound of want started to rise out of the dead's throats. Like a crowd all silently chanting water.

"Fuck it." Glen whispered to Rick. "RUN."

It would have been comical watching the dead watch them - if it wasn't life or death. Because there was a delay between everything they did. They all stopped, stiffened into statues before sniffing deeply and stumbling after the two alive beings in their midst.

Some of the Walkers were even easy to escape as they had had their back's turned while the hoard behind them stumbled on uninterrupted.

Only when the deep-throated whine of hungry started did the entirety of the undead population start towards them.

It was lucky for them that this was the point they reached the fence.

Rick had the good sense to shut the gate and lock it with the dead-bolt that was hanging off the gate. Just in time as the undead all launched themselves forward in a rush - pushing the fence a good inch inwards. Glen used the pistol that had been in her waist band via Andrea to pick off the five Geek's that had been inside the fence's immediate perimeter.

Glen was already half-way to the box that housed the keys to the trucks and cars. They had only banked on grabbing a moving truck, but Glen noticed a set of keys that forced her to remember rather blankly the flash sports car parked behind her.

"Glen!" Rick shouted, "You got the keys?"

"Yeah!" She shouted back, grabbing four sets of keys and making sure at least one of them was the red car. "And I got that plan for distraction, too!"

The Walkers heaved onto the gate again, making it sag a few more inches under the weight. The only thing between them and dead was a truck that had been abandoned near the gate and was more or less keeping the flimsy-strong metal from bending too far.

As the two cars started up, Glen blaring the horn of the nicest red car she had seen in a while and Rick forcing the giant behemoth of a truck into gear - it was a mad race for who would complete the assigned job first.

* * *

Driving was a passion Glen had had for a long time, which is why she didn't mind all that much that her job in life had ended up being delivering Chinese food to the campus persons and a mile radius around that. Sure - it would have been nice to go and be a big-shot doctor but there had been complications and Glen really _had_ accepted her lot in life.

Which was to drive a crappy car and try not to be disappointed in herself.

Then of course the whole end of the world thing had happened and she really didn't care anymore about her lot in life - because she could be dead. Which, unfortunately, was worse than just simply being a dead-beat.

So Glen enjoyed the wind rushing through her hair making her pony-tail slap her more in the face than ever before. It was almost relaxing. Almost loosening all of the knots in her muscles and such.

So free and so relaxed in fact that when she had finally gotten back to camp - she had forgotten to shut off the panic-alarm that had been blaring for the past twenty minutes.

So it wasn't really a surprise when the first thing she heard when she pulled up came directly from Shane.

"TURN THAT THING _OFF_!"

He roared it louder than the actual alarm's shrill shriek. An impressive thing in and of itself. Glen punched all the buttons she could reach and finally the noise died down to a whine before stopping completely.

"Oops." She said sheepishly as she exited the car.

"You out of your goddamn mind, Glen?" Shane demanded as she hopped out the open window.

"Not any more than usual, Shane."

Everyone was looking at her with expressions set into pale faces. Women were holding their children to themselves, as if in protection. The men all had their guns, not pointed at her but their fisted hands suggested they had been ready for whatever was to come.

"Then why the hell you bring that damn car all the way up here blarin' away?" Shane demanded. "You **want** the Walker's to find us? Lead them straight here?"

 _Ahhh. Oops was right._ Glen had completely forgotten about the love of noise that the Walkers had. Considering it had been her job just a few minutes ago to distract them - it was an honest mistake.

"Sorry. I was - uhm, caught up in the moment."

Shane simply glared at her.

Then she heard the clunking of the truck coming along after her. It was a relief because that meant the attention would be off her. It parked and soon the attention that had been directed on her was towards the other camp-survivors she had managed to get back alive. Andrea made a mad rush for her little sister. Jacqui was cool about everything as she helped T-Dog along, he was still limping from where Merle had socked him. Morales was next and he scooped up his little girl with a huge smile.

"UHm. The other's are safe and sound? See." Glen added hopefully. "And we picked up a stray."

Shane looked at her blankly. "You found a dog in Atlanta?"

"No," Glen snorted. "A guy. Say's his names - "

"Lori?"

 _Lori? No not Lori, that's Shane's_ \- Glen's eyes widened as Shane stared behind her. Lori was also staring fathomlessly at one Rick no-last-name. Glen turned around to see Rick acting for all the world to see as if he was about to cry.

Then -

"Rick." Lori whispered. It was reverent and sad and hopeful and - _my god could anyone be as hopeless as she was?_ Glen could only watch shocked as Rick and Lori walked towards each other, picking up speed towards the end, and embraced strongly. It was an embrace of familiarity bred from years and years of knowing one another. Intimately.

 _Holy shit. Camp Soap Opera just got twelve times better._ Glen smiled to herself. She'd never reveal that she had secretly watched more than a fair number of soaps in her day.

Then she noticed that something was wrong. It came after a moment of feeling icy chills fall down her back. Came during a sigh of relief. Cutting it off brutally. Besides, even if she hadn't noticed it - Shane's expression of conflicted joy and sorrow told her enough. The fact that everyone could see the terrible rift being torn open right before their eyes, helped also.

" _ **Where the hell is Merle?"**_


	7. Should We Stay or Should We Go?

Really late on this, it's been sitting in my folder ready to be sent out but I was being all nit-picky about everything. And probably a little depressed, too.

Thank you all for your reviews :) I promise, Glen is just going to keep getting more and **more** badass and Daryl is just going to become more and more... well _you'll see_. Want to keep his character development under lock and key for the most part.

Warnings always apply. Glen has a potty mouth worse than a sailor but not as creative.

I do not own anything, least of all the Walking Dead.

* * *

**Should We Stay or Should We Go?**

* * *

"Now Glen, calm down, let's talk about this -"

" _Calm down._.. **Talk about it** ," Glen snarled incredulously. "You want _me_ to **fucking** calm down? Merle is fucking stuck on a **god damn rooftop,** we don't know if hes alive, and - You want me to calm down?"

She kicked a chair as she tried to keep her rage contained. Failed, too. Didn't miss the chair, it crumpled in on itself, but failed to contain her rage.

"Yes. Glen we can fix this - "

"What the hell part of you left Merle stranded on a roof, _fucking handcuffed_ don't you understand?"

Rick, she'd found out his last name was Grimes, and Glen glared at each other. Glen's glare was strong and unwavering. She could have had a King Cobra bowing in submission right now if she so wished. Everyone could tell she was ready to spit fire. Which is why most of the camp was now somewhere else minding their own damn business - including the f **uck-wad** s who had left Merle stranded in the first place.

Rick was crumbling in front of her fiery, spitting anger and looking away every few seconds.

"Now come'on, Glen."

"Fuck. No." Glen stated coldly. "Don't you dare fucking ' **come'on** ' Glen me."

Her mocking voice drew more attention but everyone wisely stayed out of it.

 _How had this all happened?_ She knew the other campers had no love of Merle. Hell they didn't hide _it at all._ They had made it abundantly clear but to actually _leave him_ stranded on the roof with Walkers infesting the building? It was inexcusable. It was plain evil. It was inhuman.

Which, she acknowledged unfortunately, was kind of what the world was now. Evil. Inhuman.

"Who was it?" Glen demanded, looking around for the other campers. "Who the fuck left Merle up there?"

The only one camper who had come with her that she could see was Jacqui but she was sitting by a fire and staring into it as if it held all the answers. She didn't look guilty. She didn't look like she was innocent of leaving him, either. But she was. Just as much as the person who had made the choice in the first place. The others must have run away like the cowards they were.

A voice much smaller than she was used to hearing spoke up. "It was me."

She spun to glare at the person only to get a facefull of T-Dog. He was holding an rag soaked with water against his cheek, he had a black eye, but most of the blood had been cleaned up, there cuts on his faces weren't _that_ bad. Glen could only think: _Serves him right._ Even as she looked at the terrible mess that Merle had left behind.

"Why?"

"I didn't mean to." It was a quiet whisper of what it should have been.

Glen snorted at the remorseful man. "'Didn't mean' to isn't gonna get him off that **damn, fucking** roof."

"I'm sorry, I'm-" T-Dog was almost begging and in that moment Glen had an **almost** glimpse of what it would be like to hate someone based on one single thing. Be it a personality trait. Be it their skin color.

Be it their fucking actions that had endangered someone she had refused to allow die. Someone she owed her life to.

"No you're fucking not." Glen snarled, before getting into his face. "But let me just say y _ou will be_."

Before she was able to do as she was going to - namely punch him in the stupid nose that was already broken - Rick stopped her. Grabbed her around her middle and pulled her back. Effectively cutting off her attack, mid motion. What he didn't know was that she was very aware of how to deal with someone coming from her blindspots. Especially someone male.

"Glen! Calm down! Calm th- oohmph!" Glen's elbow struck true into his stomach and then followed quickly by her heel into his knee. Once his grip weakened, she turned around to push him to the ground. Before she was able to fling herself at the downed man she herself had saved and truly cause damage - feeling betrayed by the fucking sheriff of all people - she was grabbed again. This time with strong arms coming around and winding around her chest and capturing her arms in a vice against her sides.

She saw red, for the second time that day.

"Let me fucking go, **Shane**!" Glen howled, loudly. Making quite a spectacle out of the whole event. "I **fucking** swear! If you don't _fucking_ let me t _he fuck down_ I am going to **rip** you the fuck apart -"

In all the commotion and excitement and the screaming she herself was doing, Glen barely even heard the quiet but sure footsteps coming towards the loud screaming-wiggling-fighting match. She wasn't the only one. Everyone who wasn't holding her down was watching in rapt attention. Children shoo'd away but not quite listening to their parents or guardians, looking to Glen with wide eyes.

Glen continued to scream expletives. Aware of the children and violently thinking that _everyone_ deserved to feel her wrath. Nobody could get a word in edgewise as she snarled curses and accusations like blessings. They rained down like holy fire and nobody could stop her.

Right as Glen was about to stop trying to escape and at least listen to the _shit_ they were going to force feed her - someone beat her to the punch.

"And don't even get me the **fuck** started with letting these five **fuck-wads** come with me! I will fucking _cut_ you-"

She was, ironically, cut off by the arms around her waist and arms being torn brutally away from her. It was more of the shock of being restrained and then flying forward as someone forcibly removed Shane from her person than anything else that had her landing awkwardly on her hands. She found herself on her knees before scrambling to stand.

Daryl was pushing Shane away, and the off balanced leader of the camp stumbled into Lori and Rick. The hunter looked back to her briefly, raising an eyebrow. Glen blushed and then pointedly looked away, shrugging. She'd caught enough of a glimpse of him to see that he had a string of small animals over his shoulder, and all but managed the 'scary predator' look without trying.

"What tha hell is goin' on?"

For the first time in probably half an hour - the clearing was silent. It was also getting dark. Much darker than it had been. Since Daryl had now arrived, everyone on the outskirts of the throw-down found the situation a little too dangerous for their blood. There was a dull thundering as people who had originally been sticking around to listen to the crazy-drama that never happened left to do something less dangerous.

"Now, listen Daryl," Shane started, placatingly. "Ain't nobody want any trouble."

Daryl raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "You din't want trouble?"

The implied ' _then why'd I have to grab you off Glen_ ' unsaid but clearly glared.

The two ex-police nodded, Lori standing to the sidelines with Carl clutched to her. Nobody answered the stupid question.

Not receiving an answer, Daryl decided to go to the source.

"What'd they do?" Daryl asked, turning to Glen. There was a measure of trust he was giving her, and Glen felt a moment of warm-heartedness towards the brute.

Knowing the explosion that would occur thanks to her words, Glen went ahead anyway with a vengefulness she hadn't been feeling until that point.

"They left Merle handcuffed to a roof. In Atlanata. Last I knew the place was _swarming_."

Now, Glen had gotten to be 'acceptable' at calming down Daryl and Merle. For the most part. Even if she knew how to calm them down as well as she did - she also knew how to push buttons like it was going out of style. By the way that Daryl's shoulders hunched and stiffened, his throat tightened, and his eyes widened before narrowing: Glen knew she had done it right.

"Merle's stuck on a roof?" He said slowly, each word becoming constricted.

"Now, listen here-"

"How **fucking dare ya**." Daryl snarled as he turned back to the others stupid enough to stay near them. Rick, Shane, and T-Dog.

"Now, Daryl it was a-"

"My brother! How could ya leave him?"

"It's not what you-"

"What the fuck happened? Huh? WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?"

Daryl was now pacing like a trapped cat, wringing his hands through his hair as he stomped on the little grass that was growing in the clearing.

Glen would have been right there with him - if she wasn't so terribly _exhausted_. Seemed like single-handedly saving the campers along with Rick had been too much for her, plus driving the car back and fighting against Shane's stranglehold.

"I didn't mean to leave him!" T-Dog exclaimed, sweat pouring down his brow at the exact moment Rick admitted, "It's my fault!"

"Oh yeah?" Daryl snarled. "Both of ya's faults?"

"What the fuck happened?"

From there, Glen watched the men deteriorate into ass-kissing monkeys. Rick explained why he had handcuffed the older Dixon, T-Dog defended why he had left Daryl's brother to die, and Glen just stood by trying not to let her exhaustion show.

Daryl listened with his jaw taunt and his head held high, fingers clenching and unclenching as he kept his temper.

The joyrides energy was slowly dwindling even more. Setting into her shoulders and forcing her to either cross her arms to stabilize herself or fall over.

"I'm willing to make this right." Rick said, not looking either of them in the eyes.

"Oh yeah, how ya plannin' to do that?" Darly fairly snarled.

Rick finally looked up and began to wax bullshit.

"We didn't just leave Merle behind. There's a bag of guns too -"

* * *

Daryl hadn't spoke a word to Glen edgewise about how angry he was, but she wasn't stupid so she could read him fairly well at this point. And the fact that he hadn't stopped cursing and fussing made it all the easier. The game on his shoulder, strung through with a long piece of string, had started to drip blood all down his front.

"-Not to mention the damn Walker getting my doe!"

"Walker?" Glen found herself asking without even meaning to. "This far from Atlanta?"

The stupid beasts didn't wander far from the city.

The redneck shrugged, "Yeah, it was about half a mile from camp. Took 'er before I could even trace it back."

"Sucks." Glen said, nonplus.

There was silence and then Daryl looked at her. "Where were ya when they were handcuffin' 'em?"

"Yelling at them and telling them they were all jack-asses," Glen admitted. "Merle had been using again, so I felt it was better to leave him there to sort through the worse of it. He was ready to eat people up there at first. Tried to declare himself leader or something..."

"Ya left him? Just like that?" Daryl narrowed his eyes, but there was not a whole lot of suspicion behind it. There was enough that Glen wanted to bow under the pressure of it and do whatever it took to get back in his good graces, but it wasn't enough for her to actually do so. Daryl himself knew what Merle was like when he actually found a stash of drugs.

They both were just glad he didn't know how to make any.

Glen narrowed hers right back. "Yeah. He agreed, after a while. He was not in any condition to deal with people... Didn't fucking think any of them had the balls to actually **keep** him there. Merle was the one who messed up T-Dogs face. I thought it could have been a grudge at first, but T-dogs too stupid for that. And... honest."

Daryl's face evened out into a snarl. "Fuckin' nigger."

There were millions of things Glen could say in response to that, both in defense and offense of the whole 'racist' profile the brothers had, but she was just too tired to get into any kind of argument right now. And she was more inclined to agree with the horrible image of Merle's perhaps-killer than anything else at the moment.

Even if tomorrow they were setting off to go and save whatever was left of the man.

"Fuck, I'm too tired for this." Glen rubbed her nose, trying to chase away the headache that had been brewing ever since Shane had unknowingly almost cut off her air supply. She looked to the dark sky and approximated that it was about seven or eight. A good enough time to sleep if they were going to be waking up early.

"Fuck this camp."

"Planning on it." Daryl said as they both arrived at the tent.

Glen, still tired, stilled and watched as Daryl tore open the flap, and stepped in. It was easier to forget the 'plan' as they had called it, when Merle was around. When Daryl was more than happy to leave them in the relative safety of the camp to go out and hunt, something he needed more than air on days like this.

When she was alone.

The plan was simple. Something they didn't talk about, either, since it was the easiest thing since sliced bread: Stay around long enough to scope out the land, find what everyone had, and get out. With a few things to line their pockets, of course. Along with their stomachs.

Stepping into the tent, Glen was greeted with Daryl sitting on a sleeping mat, gun in hand. The game to the side, where he had rolled it up in some kind of sack. Guess he wasn't in the mood to share.

"I'll take first watch."

So they were back to trusting no one. Good.

Trusting had gotten them nowhere already.

Maybe this time, they'd be safe.

Glen didn't both undressing, simply laid down with her head pillowed in the opposite direction of Daryl's gaze, and fell asleep.

The last thing she heard was Daryl rustling around and moving the game he had caught outside, to do whatever the hell he did with it.

Skin it. Use it for bait.

At this point, she didn't care if it somehow was made into food for them.

She just wanted the blessed nothingness that came from sleep.

* * *

Glen was sitting outside the tent. It couldn't be more than four in the morning, and she was surprisingly not as cold as she could be. The southern nights were pretty awful and could get well below freezing. Daryl had woken her up an hour ago, and she had kept strong by being paranoid and aware of every little twig snapping, leave crinkling, and animal snorting. But the sounds of the forest were not strong enough to keep her mind from wandering.

_How the hell had it gone wrong?_

Merle and Daryl, just this morning, had been fine. Now they were split up. One here, safe as they could be in this horrid world, and the other stuck on a building - which Glen hoped fervently would hold. Hoped that Merle would still be there when they returned.

When they had found this place, it had seemed safe enough.

But now Glen knew what Daryl had meant when he said ' _people weren't to be trusted_ '.

A twig snapped.

Her head whirled to the side as she stared into the moonlit darkness, the direction of the noise. They had no campfire around them, so Glen's eyes were more adjusted to the sight around her. She could see the far pinpoints of light of the other campers, but she did not focus on that. She focused on the rustling and the soft banging of things in the night. On the trees far away from the other light around her.

There was something off about the sound. It didn't have the slight crunch and rhythm that deer had, nor the hurry of a rabbit. It was slow and lumbering and Glen knew with a heavy and pounding heart _exactly_ what made it. The groaning that was almost too quiet, but to her ear trained by many sleepless nights sounded like labored but close breathing.

One Walker on the mountain was a happenstance she never wanted, but two?

_That was a coincidence._

Glen didn't believe in coincidences.

Something had changed.

She waited patiently to hear anything else the Geek was willing to give her. Proximity maybe. Number. If two had made it to the mountain then maybe more had. Heart pounding like on that day in sixth grade when she had first skipped school, before, in her old life, when things like that matter.

It was thirty minutes before the sound disappeared completely. As if it had stumbled and fallen down a cliff. Away from everything. The rest of the morning, until Daryl woke up at the butt-crack of dawn, Glen heard no more. Nor did she go after the first sound. She wasn't stupid. They had survived by running and staying quiet when the undead came knocking...

But...

Perhaps it would eat T-dog.

"One can hope." She muttered to herself as she heard Daryl stir inside.

Was it that earlier already? Six o'clock was when he woke up, perfectly on the dot.

Daryl exited the tent with a growl and sat down next to her, briefly to get oriented with the weak sunlight. Glen looked over, before snapping her eyes forward. Daryl wore his dark, blood-stained jeans and a simple jacket, but underneath it was completely bare. Glen tried to keep herself from blushing.

Even though Daryl wasn't much for privacy, she still had only rarely seen him shirtless. His arms were another matter, and for once, were covered up.

She finally killed those feelings remembering Merle's situation.

He grunted as he sat, "Any word from tha' camp?"

"Everyone's been quiet up there." Glen answered, rubbing her arm.

"Hmm." Daryl snorted.

"Heard a Geek."

That got his semi-awake attention.

"This close?" Daryl asked.

"That's what I said."

Daryl narrowed his eyes. Pure calculation shining. "You sure?"

"Didn't see it," Glen held in her shivered expertly. "Heard it."

"Two in less than twenty four hours..."

The gears in Daryl's head were clicking along. As he chewed on nothing but perhaps his bottom lip.

"Let's go."

Glen paused to catch up to his train of thought, jacket that had thrown off as the night had gotten hotter (maybe it had just been her, Glen don't know) sitting next to herself on a log.

She scooped it up. "Go where?"

"The fuckin' sheriff and Shane said they'd have a group together to go back into town." Daryl said as he grabbed up his clothes from a limb, where he had hung them up, his shirt, pants, and what not were not as grimy as they had been yesterday.

Glen noticed that he only did this when there was a good chance of not coming back for a few days.

"If they don't?"

"If they don't, we're still goin'."

"Fine by me."

Glen grabbed both of them a granola bar from their stash under the tent's left side, and caught up to where Daryl had walked off too. She tossed the bar at Daryl's turned back and he still managed to catch it as it zinged over his head.

 _Oh_ , the campers wouldn't know what hit them. Glen smiled.

Daryl was in the _zone_.

* * *

"We've got three of us willing to go." Grimes said as they made their way into the middle of the camp. Unsurprisingly, only the three people including Grimes were present.

 _Everyone else must still be in their tents and sleeping._ Glen mused to herself without humor. _Lazy asses._

Glen looked over the motley group in front of her and grimaced. Andrea, T-Dog (or was it T-Dawg? Glen found she didn't care), and Grimes. Two of them fuck-wads, with Andrea being at least semi-stable if not a complete basket case - Glen had little hope that everyone would make it back alive.

She had little hope of caring either.

They'd have better luck if Daryl and herself went solo. Sharing a moment of eye contact with Daryl she conveyed that.

"Really think we need that many people?" Daryl demanded. Groused really. He still wasn't in any mood to deal with people.

"More the merrier." Rick shrugged.

Glen rolled her eyes and looked over the group again, this time trying to assess their worth without putting any other price tags on them. T-Dawg was needed to lead them to where they needed to go (which wasn't necessary cause they had **her** ), Rick was there to show them to the guns, Andrea was...

"Why are you comin' Andrea?" Glen asked, crossing her arms and raising a brow.

The elder woman copied the pose and responded oh-so-maturely, "'Cause I've got just as much right as everyone else."

Glen could tell that wasn't it though. She was good at reading people. Something else was festering in the woman's spirit.

" **And**?"

The woman stomped her foot childishly but stared at the ground as if she was ashamed, twisting her right hand in her shirt. " **And** I am also feeling... _guilty_ that I had any part in leaving Merle behind - even if he is a slim bucket. Nobody deserves to die like that."

Glen shut-up, forgetting momentarily that people had emotions like her. Anger. Fear. Pity.

 _Shit._ She didn't want to have to deal with an emotionally compromised woman. That was higher than her pay grade of nothing could **eve** r deal with.

"If you all want to come, I ain't gonna stop ya'." Daryl said after a moment of too-long silence.

Glen conceded. "I won't either."

"Then it's settled?" Rick asked, shrugging a gun into his pants holster.

 _No. It was most certainly **not**._ Glen needed to make sure everyone coming understood not to mess with her.

"Me and Daryl - we've got point on this. What we say: Goes."

Everyone was hesitant and she could see rebellion stirring.

"Why's it always you?" Andrea asked, for the sake of asking.

Glen could play that game too. "Because it's because of me that all of you are alive."

Andrea shut up, her jaw clicking audibly as she snapped it shut and looked sourly at the ground, then to the trees, and then finally huffing and saying no more.

Glen didn't like it, but after sharing another telling look with Darly (this one all fiery-steely-flinty in his gaze), she nodded.

"Yeah. It's settled... on everything but how we're all going to die." She said, turning to get to the truck they would be taking. "Still never sure about that one."

Nobody voiced their opinion to her comment, and that was just fine with her. The less opposition to her rule, the better. Daryl threw his crossbow over his back as he followed her, and soon she heard the pattering of confused people as they followed, too.

Not sure what they had just signed up for.

 _Then again_ , Glen smiled to herself faintly, _nobody quite knew what to do with her._

Not even Daryl.

* * *

So... what did you think? Anything worth reading? I always think so, but that's just me. :D

Any kind of review, kind word, or criticism is welcome. Just to let you all know though, I haven't quite caught up on most of the walking dead. Like this season. Or last, actually. But once I get there - you'll know.


	8. The Adults Aren't Alright

Hey guys!

 _Very glad_ to get this chapter out finally. It's been just sitting in my head waiting to be written and now that it's out - I FEEL FREE! Or well, kinda. I immediately got down almost another chapter, as well. Probably will work on it all this week. Hope you guys don't mind _too much_ but in the next few chapters or so: there will be character deaths (kinda of major and a minor?) and also new characters being introduced.

It is the Walking Dead, so you guys **probably** knew this coming in.

Thought you guys deserved a little bit of good news (you know its relative) after hearing that the Walking Dead season finale is coming up. (Hot damn, Those two little girls broke my heart, thank God Judith is okay - that kids a **trooper** and she can't even _stand_ yet.)

There is a lot of action in this chapter. Glen is, as always, a bad-ass, and we actually get to see a little bit of Daryl as well. Rick, T-dawg and Andrea are also going to being seeing a side to the Daryl-Glen duo like never before.

It's actually _almost_ fluffy :)

**AS ALWAYS:**

**_Warnings_** always apply. Glen has a potty mouth worse than a sailor but not as creative.

I do not own anything, least of all the Walking Dead.

This Chapter is pretty on with the show, also, just to let you know but once we get over to the next chapter - things are gonna **change**.

ALSO: T-dawg's name change form T-dog is on purpose. Meant to show Glen's 'cultural' appropriation so to speak.

* * *

**The Adults Aren't Alright**

* * *

The truck ride was awkward.

That was the one thing Glen knew for sure as she sat in the passenger-front-seat. T-Dawg driving because he had been the one driving before and she had already instructed him in how to drive into the back-alley where they were going.

Which meant less talking. Something Glen liked **very much**.

In the back, Daryl sat to the far right, Andrea stuck in the middle on account of the younger Dixon was less likely to get violent with a woman, and Rick on the very far left. Not a sound had been uttered for the fifteen minute drive, not since the first awkward attempt at conversation that had lead to Daryl's glare turning almost audible and Glen feeling the need to shut them all up before it exploded in the small back-seat.

Glen watched the trees and such pass them by as they drove closer and closer to the city. Her feet were propped up on dashboard, the window was rolled down, and she looked as if she couldn't give a shit about life - which was the exact opposite of everything Glen stood for.

Everything she **did** , she **did** for a purpose.

She was more on edge than anyone, but perhaps Daryl, knew. The window was rolled down not for her own personal satisfaction of getting some fresh air but because it was easier to hear the lumbering moans of the undead this way. Her feet propped up to feel how the engine was holding up. So far - not so hot. She'd give them a few more miles, before she was going to have to find them some kind of transport back. The truck probably wouldn't last - if not on gas then something else would break or simply disappear.

It was like a sixth sense, how Glen knew.

The trees abruptly thinned and in front of them was the city of Atlanta. Glen dropped whatever facade of innocence and leaned out the window, watching closely even as the dry wind bit at her skin.

It looked so peaceful. Empty, no bustling and hustling like a city should, but not sinister - perhaps that was what made it crazy to imagine the unspeakable horrors in the city.

"What are the rules?" She demanded, just like she knew drill-sergeants in all those stupid movies did.

Immediate response sang past her ears.

"Don't make a sound. Listen to **you**... Don't be a hero."

It was quoted by three of the four with her and Glen smirked into her fist as Daryl looked at her in bewildered half-amusement, half... well, he was still pissed that Merle was left somewhere he couldn't readily save him. It wasn't a full on tilted-mouth-smirk she got, but she understood that was because Merle was currently MIA. Glen was just proud she managed some kind of outwardly happy-thing coming from Daryl. She'd try anything to get even a smidgen of that.

Ignoring the butterflies in her stomach, she pulled her hair back from where it had flung in the wind, righting her ponytail. "Good enough for me."

Everyone seemed to relax a little more and that terrified Glen. How they all managed to put aside their strangely _many_ differences to follow her into battle to save Merle, a guy they all inclusively hated, and a bag of guns, that may or may not be swarmed by geeks? Made her stomach drop and feel like it was filled with butterflies and like she wanted to throw up.

Only Glen wasn't much for vomiting.

If it wasn't for the fact that Glen was sure all the people with her, excluding Daryl, were _not_ willing to shove a knife in her kidney to save themselves - she probably would have thought it suspicious. But it wasn't, because they all were too human to do that. They still had an almost hive-herd mentality. They weren't a danger to anyone but the dead.

At least, not yet.

A couple more months and they'd see how survival went.

Glen didn't plan on being around for it, though.

And she was not concerned for the after, when Daryl and herself and hopefully Merle left these people.

She wasn't.

* * *

The truck shuddered to a stop just outside of the city limits, near the abandoned train tracks. The tracks had been that way far before the Walker infestation. As T-Dawg stopped the truck, and it shuddered to a halt and spluttered into death, inside the truck, nobody moved for a good second.

Heaving a large gulp of air, Glen took point. As was her god-given duty with these sissies.

"We're going through the rooftops," Glen said finally as she shoved open her door and shimmied her bag onto her back. "That red building, over there, has a ladder escape that is far enough off the ground the Geeks won't even smell us comin'. There are at least four buildings interconnected. Pretty sure the only trouble we're going to have is the guns."

Everyone filed out of the car like a wave of meaty-bodies. Except, less meat and more bone.

"What a minute, rooftop access?" Andrea asked, dusting off her hands onto her jeans. "I thought you said we had to use second-floor and windows?"

 _And there was the questioning!_ It had been too silent for too long.

Glen adjusted her straps before glaring at the woman, actually quite happy to have some kind of opposition. "That was when we _had_ enough people that we **sounded** like a herd of elephants. In case you forgot, that's not an easy thing to hide. We're a smaller group now. More flexibility."

"And?" Andrea didn't get it, which forced Glen to stop strapping on the pistol holster, which she wasn't going to use, that Daryl had pushed on her.

Andrea took a nervous step back as Glen closed in on her. Inside Glen found it funny that the woman who easily had a foot on her was terrified of her.

"We've got quite a few less people than we had before. _Quite a few_. It will be easier for me to coordinate everyone's movements. Much easier." She gave Andrea a look that had her looking even more nervous than she had been. "Simple terms for you? **I want to.** _We're going to._ Therefore, we go by rooftop."

"It's all about fucking flexibility."

"Alright, alright," Andrea held up her hands defensively, shifting awkwardly. "I get it. _Sorry_ I asked."

Glen was ready to continue their argument, quite ready to beat into everyone's skulls just what had screwed them over in the first place. But, Daryl came to their rescue.

"'Enough," Daryl barked. "Throw yer hissy fits when we're done. Merle ain't got time fer us to be pussy-footing around like a bunch of rabid-politicians, Glen. Bitch later."

Glen was the only one who snorted a laugh, everyone else was too shocked that Daryl had mentioned politics or something intelligent. Did they think he just seduced the deer? A Red-neck with the good sense to watch for who was elected? Oh no, call the new stands.

If there **were** any left.

Sobering with that thought of how much the world had gone to the shitter, Glen straightened up. No longer in the mood to be Mrs. NiceNice.

"Let's go."

And everyone followed, like good little sheep to the slaughter.

* * *

The story of course then goes: They found Merle, everyone survived, Rick and Lori get back together, Daryl and Glen ride away into the sunset and kiss like passionate teenagers who just learned what their mouths were re _ally mad_ e of and overall everything was lovely.

_**Not.** _

Oh wouldn't that just be peachy if that was the truth?

Glen thought so. Thought so up until they made it to the rooftop. Up until they watched Andrea get carted off by some good for nothing scavengers - leaving behind a skinny beanpole of a kid that they all snatched up before the Walkers could lay a hand on him and the bag of guns. Well, most of the guns.

Right up until she saw the look in Daryl's eyes as he saw the blood from where they had left Merle and the hand that was sitting palm up, like it was grasping for the sun.

* * *

They all clambered up the stairs, a herd. The moans of the undead following them like bad breath before a tic-tac. Glen was on point with Daryl, but she could feel the Walkers, turned Runners, behind them by a hairs breadth. Rick was in the middle. T-Dawg and the newest member of their merry little crew following at a stumbling pace not unlike the Walkers.

Andrea nowhere in sight.

"Right!" She yelled as she saw the only open door. A risk, but they didn't have a _lot of options_. If they did, she would have gone straight.

It was the right decision as she and subsequently everyone else all waterfall'd into the empty room - T-Dawg and the random kid shutting the door and trying - **failing** \- to lock it behind them.

Not a few seconds later did the banging begin. The Walkers too dumb to use the door handle.

 _Small miracles,_ Glen acknowledged as she caught her breath. They'd been running for less than a minute, but it still tugged on every single one of her muscles. Woke them up.

"Everyone okay?"

Affirmatives greeted her.

 _Now for the harder part._ Glen growled to herself, pushing the image of the smiling red-head who was dead out of her mind.

"Anyone bit?"

There was hesitancy, as everyone looked over themselves. The adrenaline masked a lot of the pain they were feeling. It was entirely possible a bite had gotten through. It had happened before.

Glen knew it had.

Then one by one, everyone responded with the negativity born from relief. A weight dropping off her shoulders as her group that was left all announced they were fine. The random kid they had 'technically' kidnapped responding last. And rudely.

"Fucking no. Thank god." His skinny-from-not-enough-food face was puckered as if the entire idea of being bit was an offense to himself personally. He smirked as if he knew a secret. "Ain't no Walker gonna get to me, ya' hear? _Too fast._ "

Glen rolled her eyes.

"They ain't got nothing on me, **Lady,** "

 _Oh, was he flirting with her?_ Glen stifled a smile and a laugh, because she knew that Daryl wouldn't take any kind of shit right now.

Daryl, on edge and not a little off-hinged, snapped. Glen had expected it to happen a while ago... when they had found Merle's **hand** \- but really. Now was as good as any time. Best time since, too, no Walkers could get them.

Theoretically.

"Now listen here you **little shit** ," The redneck, who's neck was starting to redden in his fury and keep his name-sake true, snapped, stomping towards the readily cowering kid. "What the fuck did yer people want with that bag of guns and Andrea? What the fuck is yer' angle?"

The kid could only stutter out one word responses, most of it illegible.

"What was that?" Daryl snarled. "The **fuck** you say?"

 _So_ _ **that**_ _was why I was terrified of him the first time I met him_ , Glen mused to herself, remembering a time when Daryl and herself were not friends. Not even close. And remembering the red-headed kid that had been with her too. She pushed the face that morphed between her dying friend and the smiling face he had had - out of her mind.

Getting back to the problem at hand, Glen knew how she was going to handle everything. Seeing Daryl like this, she knew he could cause a lot of damage, but...

She didn't care enough to pull the hurting man off the kid, even at the doe-ish look of wide-eyed fear that reminded her of Doug when he had first admitted he had gotten chomped - **that** was so not what she needed. Shaking herself Glen busied herself with trying to think themselves out of the problem. Instead of doing anything to stop what she was watching, she just turned away.

Ignore the problem. As long as it' not a Walker, it will all work out.

Rick did not get the memo.

"Back off, Daryl,"

 _Ah shit._ Why could **nobody** in camp let Daryl be a jackass? Especially to some snot-nosed kid who's mafia-style-gang had Andrea? It was only fair.

It wasn't like the situation with Rick. It just wasn't. Rick hadn't known, Glen could have figured that ten miles away. Nobody who had survived as long as they had just **rode** a horse into Atlanta. It was worse than suicide. Worse, because he had had a **horse**. Nobody fucking wastes a horse like that.

This kid knew exactly what he was doing. He was a survivor.

"I don't know man! I don't know!" The kid was blubbering as Daryl turned away to glare at Rick.

There was a moment, not even a full moment, of contemplative silence, then Daryl just said, "Fuck off, cowboy. We ain't got time fer this. You want the guns back, I'll fuck'en get yer guns back."

And turned back to the kid. Turned his back to Rick.

The ex-Sheriff looked highly offended, but Glen stopped any kind of altercation with her hand firmly against his chest and a low-powered thrust to get him to look at her. Which worked. He stumbled back a step, as if he had forgotten she was there and glared at her.

Glen felt insulted and glared right back.

"Leave him alone," She stated, softly so she didn't disturb Daryl as he ranted and raved at the kid. The moans outside the door got louder and louder overtime as Daryl's voice rose in pitch. "The kid isn't even part of our camp."

She said 'our camp', but she really meant 'their camp'. If it really was just her and the younger Dixon now... it wasn't looking too good, but at least they had a chance. The camp, without them, wouldn't last long.

Which made her wince, thinking about their soon to be abandonment.

"I can't just stand by and let him beat up a minor!" Rick said, eyes flicking between the Glen and Daryl as if he wasn't sure who was the more dangerous of the two.

"This isn't disneyland, Grimes." She said, feeling particularly cold when she looked to the kid being pushed up against a wall. Even knowing that the kid wasn't any way connected to Merle's disappearance, it didn't help. The cold feeling of knowing that he was probably dead. "Kid's the reason Andrea got taken."

"We can't just let him-"

She had had enough of all these idiots. " **Yes** , we can. Wanna know why?"

Rick's jaw clicked shut.

"Because he's a fucking punk ass kid who's messing with the wrong people, Rick. _And_ he may have survived this long. May have destroyed his fair share of brains - but if he doesn't get through his **fucken** head that Daryl Dixon will end him, he ain't gonna last much longer."

Glen wondered if Rick was catching on that she was saying this for the kids sake more than his. Probably not.

"That is an honest truth I'm not liable to share with many people. So **shut it**. Let him be."

Her voice was quiet, but it cut through the almost silence like a knife through butter. Even T-Dawg, who was on door duty and resolutely not looking at the brother Dixon, the one that he had **not** failed to save, didn't even look back to try and argue with her. Rick clenched his jaw, looked to the kid being pushed against the wall, saw the fear and the distress and looked back at Glen. The young Asian saw the moment that Rick had decided to be a hard-ass, to protect the kid, in the way his stance firmed, and he grew bigger by just a mere breath through his nose and out.

 _Here we fucking go,_ Glen snarled to herself, pissed as a rattle snake

Rick stood tall as he said, "No, Glen. I can't believe that. We're _better_ than that."

Glen tried to make him see reason. "No. We _used_ to be better than that. Used to. Now... We're not."

" **Bull**."

She was about to respond by calling him out on his bull-shit, but the kid who was pushed up against a wall, with Daryl holding Merle's hand out like some kind of consolidation price, won the lime-light.

" **Alright** , alright, - ALRIGHT **already** \- I'll take you to them! Just stop! Put that away! GET IT OUT OF MY FACE!"

Daryl let the kid go, and he dropped like a sack of potatoes.

" _Good_."

And like that, everyone was back on the same page.

Rick was still tense. Daryl had a crazy look in his eyes that Glen knew would be fixed with a good hunt.

She didn't even care to look at T-Dawg.

Everyone was still relatively unhurt.

Rick had his jaw set as Glen and himself met eyes.

It was a different meeting of eyes than it had been before. More intense.

This time, Glen had an inkling of the man Rick Grimes wanted to be - but she knew, like how she knew that if she stopped breathing she would die, that the world would crush that out of him. Crush _every last bit_ of goodness that wasn't attached to sentiment and pound it into the dust they breathed in day after day.

Just like it was doing to her.

"Lead the way." Glen said, taking point but not meeting Grime's, Daryl's or T-Dawg's eyes.

And most certainly didn't look at the bruise on the kids arm as she opened the window out into the fire-escape. Didn't look Daryl in the eye as he smirked, proud of his accomplishments.

Nor did she meet Rick's holier-than-thou gaze.

* * *

It wasn't that Glen was feeling guilty. -

Because she **wasn't**.

\- But there was something wrong with her.

How could she, one moment, run after some unknown idiot about to get chomped? To save an ex-sheriff who was more work than she wanted but **allow** Daryl to beat up some kid they'd hardly had enough time to learn to hate?

Why didn't she stop Merle? Why hadn't she stopped Merle when he had gone insane from drugs, but dropped everything to make sure the campers knew how horrible they were for **daring** to leave the elder Dixon behind?

She wasn't blind to the cruelty the two brothers possessed. It wasn't that. She knew they were right bastards. Knew that if it had been some other sap who the brothers had saved - wouldn't be alive.

The fact was, they were _her_ bastards. However possessive that sounded. They had saved her. She had adopted them into her life. She would die for them...

_And now look where she was?_

Following some mangy Mexican who looked as if he was about to wet his pants every time Daryl even looked at him to go and rescue Rick's bag of guns, Andrea, and their dignity. Pathetic.

"How ya holding up?" Glen asked as she sidled up next to Daryl, there wasn't enough room to go side by side, but she kept a pretty even pace.

There was a growling silence from the man, that sounded as if he wanted to roar.

" _Pissed_."

Irrevocably saddened, more like it.

Understandable, if Glen were any other girl and Merle any other guy, she might be feeling a little less murderers, but she kept it in. It wouldn't do to have the common people think she was useless. Careless. Emotional. They wouldn't dare think that of Daryl when he grieved, but her?

She was a **woman**. No matter what the men said, that fact alone put her at a disadvantage. This world was certainly not friendly to the 'kinder' sex. Even if she showed the world time and time again that it was she, alone, that had saved the handful of worthless people around her. Even if she killed Walker after Walker and stood over their towering corpses next to a man who did the same thing.

She was less than a man. It was just how it was and she accept that.

"You think he's alive?" Glen found herself asking, which was more like a prayer.

Daryl must have heard something in her voice she hadn't, because he looked back a moment, a sly little glance, before he shrugged those shoulders that hadn't been lax since they had returned yesterday.

"I donno."

Glen nodded. "Knowing Merle... I'd say there's as good a chance as him being dead as there is of him being alive."

Daryl actually quirked his lips upward, in a mimic of a smile for half a second before his face became serious again. His eyes never turned from that stony no-nonsense, but there was a faint edge of panic from the Dixon. It was hidden, but much like a wild animal cornered, Glen knew that it was only a matter of time before he snapped.

She'd be there for him... but it would certainly be a blow-up well deserved of a Dixon death.

Glen kept her eyes peeled for any Walkers, as they were closing into one of the areas that had broken doors that lead to roof-top access. Most of the Walkers had stupidly fallen of the sides of the buildings days ago, but it was still a possibility one of the crippled one's were still around about to cause trouble.

"I'm guessing the plans are changing now."

It caught her off guard, enough so that she checked to make sure that Rick, the kid, and T-Dawg were nowhere near them. There was enough of a gap between them that a little secret conversation between Daryl and herself wasn't unwarranted.

Then she admitted her feelings that had been plaguing her ever since that hand had been found. "I don't think we'd survive... just you and me. Merle with us was a different story. Now?..."

The guilt in her stomach lessened a little bit. Didn't become quite so heavy admitting that she had a weakness like that.

Daryl just growled, "We survived before."

Glen gave him a look and he looked away.

"Yeah, but that was when the going was good..." Glen had been thinking long and hard about this when it had been her turn for watching. "I don't think these cities have more than a few more months supplies in them. We're screwed on our own. And... well, I don't think you trust me **that** much to watch your back -"

" - I trust you wouldn't fuck it up for the both of us. I trust ya' enough, Glen."

Glen stopped in her semi-ranting, looking at Daryl's back as he kept walking and she stopped.

 _Did he just...?_ Glen's mind was stalling. _There was no way that Daryl just admitted that she was actually... trusted?_

She had a whole argument behind why she had decided they should stay, even if they were fuck-wads, and Daryl had to go and _drop that on her?_ What the hell did he think he was doing? Proposing?

It felt like it.

Something a lot more permanent than marriage. Staying with a group... Staying with Daryl. Being given trust, willingly, from the younger Dixon.

But... a promise?

It was a lot to take in.

Through hell or high water, Glen was going to honor his choice to give her such trust.

"It's just over the next building." The kid said, interrupting her thoughts.

"Good," Was all Daryl said, his mood darkening instantly.

When would the madness end?

* * *

Walking into the heavily guarded courtyard was a new experience for Glen. She'd beheaded Walkers, chopped legs off of others, gotten almost bitten, and very nearly killed five people – but this was a new one. Not necessarily bad... either.

Just... New.

The courtyard was not that big. Maybe a half a football field wide, if that. Each wall was covered with bits and pieces of whatever wood, plastic, or cardboard stacked four thick, that could be found. Metal poles reinforced, and the only spot that was even partially unshielded was the gate that they came in through. And that in itself was a masterpiece of survival craftsmanship.

When they had reached the gate, there were piles of Walkers stacked almost nine high. They flanked the giant gate as if they were a mote of the dead, keeping the dead out - and it worked. Rick and T-dawg shared a glance, Daryl kept his face fully forward. Glen simply took rear. Firearms, knives, and wits at the ready they'd walked forward only to be met by the gate opening for them. A loud squealing sound as it dug deep into the ground and flung its door open like a dramatic slow-motion penguin.

Then they were inside and the door was closing and Glen's fear of small spaces increased by ten.

Daryl had his cross-bow up and ready, not quite loaded.

"You okay, little man? "

The clearing had been so quiet, the sound of the almost soft-spoken man ricocheted like a bullet. There was no whirling to see who it was, because the man had walked out of the door right in front of them. Walked out with a walk that spoke of some kind of self-assurance. A swagger, really.

Glen shouldn't have been surprised to see another Mexican coming out of Atlanta, even as dark skinned as he was, seeing as the kid was as well, but she was. She'd just become so used to seeing everyone so mixed up. She'd thought for sure the leader or whoever would at least be black. Or white. Or maybe... asian.

Big dreams, but still one she was hoping to see. That she wasn't the last one in all of Georgia.

He had a hefty appearance. Not unkind, but just big and in your face. In a ... slim way. Glen had met plenty of guys like him.

Hell she'd even dated one.

"Yeah," The kid said, stuttering like an idiot. Glen glared at him disgusted with his behavior and knew that Daryl was mirroring herself. "They were gonna cut off my feet, though, _G-man_."

The man looked over at ranger Rick, dressed to the nines in his sheriff uniform.

Immediately straightened at seeing the clear markers of 'leadership'. "Cops do that?"

Before Rick could respond, though he probably wouldn't have, the kid interrupted. "Not him - the redneck - the _puta._ Had some dudes hand, threatened to do the same-"

The leader, g-man, Glen refused to call him that, was clearly looking more and more irritated at each passing second.

"Shut. Up. _Miguel_."

Glen had never seen anyone shut up so fast. In fact, it was almost beautiful how the kid's mouth shut like a bear trap and refused to open. She wished it would work on loud mouth Merle-killers. Actually she was just laughing on the inside that Daryl had threatened to cut off the poor kids feet. She _would_ have stopped that debauchery. No matter how much the other's thought she would allow it to happen.

Rick, ever the peace keeper, held up his hands and said, "Now we don't want any trouble here. We just want the half of the guns back and our friend, Andrea. No trouble."

"Ain't your guns, _Vato_. Ours now. Finders keepers and all that." Then two larger, much larger, Hispanic dudes came out of the shadows of the door. The two simply stood and flexed. Glen sized them up and counted them as the threat they were.

"That's the one who shot at us," One of them said, staring straight at Daryl.

 _Oh_. He must have been one of the ones in the alley when everything had gone to shit.

Daryl cocked his head shrewdly and narrowed his eyes. "Shouldn't a been in the way, then."

The thugs visibly got riled up by that comment, which seemed harmless.

"Stop." The man, the leader, said. There was a certain enunciation to the mans voice and posture, one that Glen knew how to stomp and crush into the dirty pretty fast. Really just in one word had a way of working wonders:

Matriarchy.

Glen was sick and tired of watching the men pussy foot around as if they were having a contest with who could stare the longest. It was getting more than boring, it was getting to be ridiculously simple to see how it was all going to end.

A fight, which was **great** , but it was dragging.

"Finders keepers, huh?" Glen said with a smile, interrupting the men's almost 'normal' monologue. Everyone looked at her. Including Daryl. "Well, then let's go buddy. We found you, seems like that gives us the right to do **whatever** we want -"

"Hey! What are you — STOP!" She grabbed the kids arm, hulled out her pistol and aimed it right at his head.

Now he wouldn't stop screaming. Typical. If it wasn't for the fact that they were protected on all sides, Glen might have shut him up.

Everyone froze. Rick, because he thought she'd finally cracked, T-Dawg for obvious reasons, and the Mexican guy for.. well, who knew? Was the kid special to him? He had stiffened like someone was about to kill his favorite piggy. Daryl just kind of smiled and leaned back staying ready for action. Cross-bow at the ready.

"G- man," The kid whimpered, as Glen kicked out his legs from the back, making him buckle. "Come on. _Help me_."

It was clear from everyone's expression nobody had thought **she** was going to be the one to fuck things up.

Goes to show them.

Glen cocked the gun, stared straight into leader-mans face and smiled. "We tried calm. We tried violence. Now we ready to talk?"

"This ain't the violent approach, lil lady?" The leader asked, tensed up all around his shoulders. More goons were now coming from the door. Standing at the ready to attack. "Coulda fooled me."

"It ain't violence if its against property, is it?" Glen asked in her best imitation of her fourth grade teacher, sickly sweet and with a southern drawl that had had many men after her. "I mean, surely that's what you were saying, right? Finders keepers, losers... well, losers are _losers_."

"You're a little sick in the head, ain't ya, lil lady?" The leader observed, trying to act all calm and collected but she could tell she had thrown him for a loop.

"Not as sick as my friend, Daryl here." Glen said, jerking her head in a nod towards her friend who was now openly grinning and openly aiming. "I mean, he keeps a **hand** of his dead brother in his pack to keep him _company —_ "

"Oh for fucks sake," Andrea's voice shot out from the darkness of the door. "Glen put the **damn** gun down. They haven't hurt me. Put the gun down. No need for violence."

The whole area diffused and lit up all at the same time. Glen's group all visibly were relieved to see Andrea well and alive, but the thugs all stiffened as if their greatest secret had been revealed. That they **hadn't** been ready to roast her over a fire pit.

"Why?" Glen asked, very strongly she thought for being surprised by Andrea being okay and unharmed. "They kidnapped you and took our guns and I'm just supposed to... stop?"

The petite woman shoved her way through the crowd of men who were now all murmuring, and to the leader. Nobody pushed back, though, which had Glen pausing and taking the gun a millimeter of an inch away from the boys head. Somehow that diffused the situation even more.

"Guillermo, tell your lackeys to back off." Andrea warned without any real bite. "I've already told **you** , two of them might be a little crazy but they're _good_ people. She's" A broad wave of her hand in Glen's direction, "Saved our asses more times than you can imagine."

Daryl and Glen were both a little insulted but didn't take it too personally.

"Actually, the two crazies are probably some of the best we have."

She waved briefly at Glen, who didn't even let up an inch on the kid in front of her, then at Daryl who didn't look pleased at being lumped with the 'good' people.

"Ain't getting our guns," Guillermo said firmly, not looking away. "We need them."

Glen rolled her eyes. "You're surrounded by the zombie equivalent of Fort Knox's, sure you need the entire cavalry that Sheriff brought with him? I mean honestly, that's just selfish."

It was so like men to hate to share. Being all pig headed as they were. Sensing an explosion because of her words, Glen made sure her pistol was firmly against the kids head. Whatever tension had bled out of the clearing was now back in full force. With Andrea looking nervous for the first time since entering the clearing.

Then another smaller voice came from one of the side doors. One of those equally secured doors.

"Philippe!"

 _Alright, seriously?_ Glen thought to herself in bewilderment, true confusion, as a little old lady came tottering out in a dressing gown. _How many innocent looking people do they have in there? Gonna start sending the babies out soon, too?_

It was making Glen exceedingly nervous. She couldn't deal with babies. She just couldn't.

Then the old lady babbled like all old, crazy ladies do and the thugs looked embarrassed, but one of them look nervous, almost kind of stricken. That must be Phillipe. They spoke quietly in spanish, urgently almost. The little old lady was a sight for sore eyes though. Relatively clean looking, and had the light of innocence in her deep old, childish eyes.

Half of the people in the clearing watched their interaction, the other half watched Glen. She'd yet to remove the gun from the kids head.

It was starting to be very clear who was _technically_ in the wrong here, and if the boys were too chauvinistic to admit they **may** have jumped the gun, then she was going to.

For the sake of all of them, her pride didn't matter much anyway. She's made peace with that a long time ago.

"Fuck this."

Now everyone was looking at Glen. Mostly because it had been her outburst.

The little old lady even tutted, " _Langauge_."

"I draw the line at shooting kids in front of the elderly," Glen said as everyone watched her put the gun away, she did push the little shit in front of her though. Roughly. Just to let them know she was being nice, but not _that_ nice. "Even _I'm_ not the far gone yet. Fucking hell."

Daryl gave her a look, clearly remembering a time that was the exact opposite of her statement. Glen didn't look him in the eye, because she remembered it all too well. And forgot it in the next breath.

"How nice of you, Glen," Andrea said, clearly not thankful for her mercy. Not thankful for ending the bloodshed that could have happened as easily as a twitched finger.

Glen raged silently inside her own head, keeping her fire to herself. At least until the first idiot dared to ask her a stupid questions. Or tried to fire on her.

"I'm a real peach," Glen responded back, she didn't even mention how Daryl was now fidgeting, and looking clearly uncomfortable. "Someone kindly inform me what the fuck is going on before I step **over** the line I really don't want to cross,"

The thugs clearly were uncomfortable now, but every single one of them looked to the leader. Some of them even lowered their weapons as if the danger was almost truly past.

Glen and Guillermo had a little showdown. A matching of wills which included only a few seconds of eye to eye contact and a slow up curving of her lips, because she found it funny that even though Rick had been the one to come in guns a blazing and demanding, it was **her** who the man in front of her took as the leader. Guillermo didn't look away, nor did he blink, but Glen could see the wheels turning behind those clearly intelligent eyes.

"Stand down." Guillermo finally said, and to the relief of Glen, deep down, a fight was averted.

Just this once, she knew it was for the better.

* * *

"A fucken' nursing home," Daryl said after they had cleared everything up and 'rescued' Andrea, even if she had semi-rescued herself. "Never seen a thing like it."

Glen nodded stiffly still a little pissed that Rick had allowed them to keep well over half of the guns.

"Can't believe you two threatened a kid," Andrea said back at them. The rest of the group was walking a good yard in front of Daryl and Glen.

"Survival of the fittest, Andrea," Glen smirked, meanly. "Kid was our ticket to getting you back. You're more important to this group than he is. Seemed like the best course of action. Plus... We weren't going to mess him up to bad - right Daryl?"

A scruffy grin was what she received in payment for her smartassery, and a shrug from shoulders that were not considerably less tense but more somber. They hadn't found Merle, but based on the evidence, he was probably alive.

Which was cause for Daryl to be less homicidal.

T-Dawg interrupted their good mood by coming to an abrupt halt. "Isn't this where we parked the car...?"

_Fuck no._

Tossing the gun over her shoulder, Glen jogged her way closer to where T-Dawg was. Daryl right on her heels.

Exactly as T-Dawg had said, the car was nowhere to be seen. There were tire marks, deep in the mud, that signified that it had been around but was now definitely gone. Someone had taken it.

"Merle," Andrea murmured as she stood with her arms crossed. Then stamping her feet she growled, "Damn it. I _need_ to get back."

Glen wasn't particularly interested in her complaining until she heard the magic words.

" _It's Amy's birthday, today._ "

Glen froze and immediately became proactive, catching the attention of everyone as she spun back around to look around for a car. "If we head out now, we can get back before dark. It's either that or try and find a car... "

Looking around it was clear that there were none close by, and the ones that were... there was no guarantee they would work nor would they have gas.

 _Was it worth the risk?_ Glen immediately dismissed that thought.

_Of course it was worth it._

"Let's go. You get green, I got yellow." Glen told Daryl as she headed off to one of the many cars that were abandoned. There were three, and there was a good chance they wouldn't be any good.

Daryl, already on the same page as her, started heading for the green sedan as she turned sharply towards a bright yellow minivan that probably had horrible gas mileage. Everyone else was left bewildered by the sudden and abrupt work ethic of the two 'crazies' of the group.

Glen didn't blame them, but there was a certain sacredidity about birthdays. Lasting a whole 'nother birthday in the apocalypse? They **deserved** every effort for happiness. Every single one. Glen would kill to unite families for birthdays. Daryl... Glen didn't know how he felt about her sudden intensity but he was being surprisingly supportive.

It completely made sense now why Amy had given her sister such a hard time for leaving.

It took Daryl and herself five minutes to sort out that both of the cars were completely useless. One was missing half the wires that made up its innards and the other one had no gas, no back left wheel, and no steering wheel. That left the teal station wagon that was about a five minute walk in the opposite direction.

"No gas?" Daryl asked as he rearranged the cross-bow on his back.

"None." Glen confirmed as she wiped her brow.

They were running out of daylight. But Daryl and Glen unanimously decided to try the car to the far-off side.

"Lets go." And off they went again, heading towards the stupid car that was probably going to be a failure anyway.

Rick, Andrea, and T-Dawg were watching both of the newcomers with quirked eyebrows and frowns.

"Are they ok?" Andrea asked, as she leaned against the vacated green car. "I've never seen them work like this..."

"No clue." T-Dawg said, watching in rapt attention as Glen entered the car and Daryl went to the front. "You think they just... have like key words they care about? Like 'birthday' means they stop acting like the fucking dick parade and start **acting** like human beings?"

Rick scoffed, "What? It could just be birthday are special to them."

"Grimes," Andrea looked at him like he was a true blue idiot. "Glen doesn't _exactly_ like me. We don't see eye to eye. She's never really even **talked** with Amy. Let alone looked in her direction. Why should she care about her birthday?"

Rick watched Daryl and Glen work together silently, without communication. Even from the distance he was at, he could tell there was a crease to Daryls brow that came from hard work and that Glen was now half-way out of the car, leaning against the car as if it was something to be cherished.

_Could it really be that simple? To those two, two of the most ruthless and closed off individuals, birthdays meant that much?_

It gave Rick an opening to have a more open heart. A more understanding side of him came forward for a few minutes.

"GOT IT!" Daryl whooped, with a smile. The first one that Rick had ever seen. It wasn't pretty at all, but there was a gracious amount of expression the Dixon could show, and Rick had had him pegged in such a small category...

That was going to change, Rick decided as their merry little group gathered together, rushed the two by the car, and piled in. Made a conscious effort to smile at both Glen and Daryl, avoid their suspicious glances that were followed by relatively easy smiles and just allow the pleasant wind to ruffle his hair.

This could work.

It could.

* * *

So... there ya have it :)

 **Up next:** campfire disasters and a farm community from hell!


	9. Say it Ain't So

Hey guys!

 _ **JUST AN UPDATE:**_ I changed the summary and might change it again based on how the story goes.

So I am **super pumped** because summer is almost here which means I'm going to be _FREE_! (Well okay two jobs and a wedding to plan and go to, **but** I'll be able to write and that's _all that matters._ )

In other news: **THAT MEANS I FINALLY HAVE A SCHEDULE** (At least for the next few months) I will post at LEAST once a month, if not more. It depends on the Muse inside my head. His name is Cliff - he changes it a lot, so if its different tomorrow its just different - and he is fickle. He gives me great ideas and I even know the direction I am taking this story!

BUT. Cliff is also an asshole and doesn't like to cooperate with my mind.

This chapter is also, kind of well... Canon until a certain point and you will see just how, _uhm,_ **specific** that point is! Hope you guys enjoy it! I certainly enjoyed writing it!

**AS ALWAYS:**

**_Warnings_** always apply. Glen has a potty mouth worse than a sailor but not as creative.

I do not own anything, least of all the Walking Dead.

REMEMBER: T-dawg's name change form T-dog is on **purpose**. Meant to show Glen's 'cultural' appropriation so to speak. And a lot of other... well, _subtle_ things she's picked up from Merle and Daryl.

* * *

**Say it Ain't So  
**

* * *

When they reached camp, everyone was just sitting down to dinner. A dinner comprised mostly of beans in a can, peaches in a can, and, shock of shockers, canned peas. It was a canned nightmare, was what it was. Glen wasn't even sure if she could call it appetizing, with how her stomach was still in complicated knots over Merle's disappearance.

"You're back!" The few people who had _someone_ to find in Glen's motley group shouted, almost in tandem. The people included Lori, Carl, and Amy.

Everyone else politely watched, guardedly as Daryl and Glen stood off by a tree, talking in hushed voices. Nobody dared to come near them, for a variety of reasons.

Mostly that Merle hadn't come back with them which meant that _no one_ was sure if Daryl would kill them all separately or together as a group. Because they all assumed death would be their price to pay for whatever wrongs had been slighted against Merle.

They were right, of course, but Glen wanted to see some **cringe** worthy performances before pushing them.

Daryl and Glen were not quite sure how to proceed. Without Merle, who had been the unspoken leader because he was both older and more ornery than the two of them combined, they were at a loss.

"He's not dead." Glen said.

"Probably not." Daryl agreed. The blood had been much but... There was no body.

_Merle woulda left a body._

"Think he thought... we were part of it?" Glen was hesitant to ask that, but she soldier on. She needed to get a feel for Daryl's reactions.

He stiffened but as his eyes narrows and shifted towards her, she could tell he hadn't thought of that.

"Dumb bastard **better not**." He said. "Ain't no traitor to my own brother. He knows that. Better know that."

"...And me?"

Daryl didn't say.

"You think he thinks I had something to do with it? Cause... I _was_ there. I just... I shoulda-" Glen cut herself off. In a way, she was at fault. It was her fault. She didn't check on him. She didn't personally get him out.

She had trusted and her trust had been misplaced.

"Was Merle's fault fer actually doin' drugs in a city filled with Walkers." Daryl defended her, shortly. "He ain't gonna think that of you. You been too... good."

 _You don't know._ Glen acknowledged in her head. There was no way Daryl knew what happened on that rooftop. Nobody knew.

Glen nodded, to appease him.

"You still think its the right choice... staying here?" Glen asked, watching the people watching them through the corner of her eye. It was as if they really thought they were being discrete.

She didn't trust them anymore.

Daryl was contemplative a moment. "Yeah... Don't think we're gonna find any other saps tha'll cook and clean fer us. Two ain't all that good a number, and, no offense or nothing, but you're not exactly Merle."

His eyes weren't on the adults though, as he watched Carl and that little girl who belonged to Carol playing in the dirt. Even as both their mothers yelled for them to clean up.

Glen didn't take offense to his words. Merle had her on body mass, pure stubborn will, and the ability to not give a fuck what anyone, anywhere, had to say. She just looked to the children and felt herself softening.

_What was it about kids? **What was it?**_

There was an unsaid something about the children that had Glen softening further, like she was desperately trying not to do when those devilish little heart-breakers looked at her like the sun shone from her ass. The very few times she had even come close to talking to them.

It left a warm feeling in her heart that made her vaguely uncomfortable. The good kind of uncomfortable. Too hot, not too cold.

"For us." She said, but she had already caught on to the fact that Daryl was watching the children. "Staying for us... I can stand beside that."

He looked at her, gave her a rather roguish grin that was a lot of his prior sadness all put together into something useful. Like he usually said: _No use bein' an idiot if it's gonna get ya killed._

"Fer us."

Life in camp hadn't exactly been fun and dandy, but there was something about actually being around children, running and laughing and having a good old life, that just made life a little bit... better? Maybe that wasn't the right word, but it worked. Camp life was calmer, less likely to take a drastic nose dive when children were around. People were more like a community here than anywhere else Glen had been.

Which was saying something because Daryl, herself, and Merle had been through many 'camps' but none this well put together.

"Then if we're going to give it a go..." Glen knew she was going to regret saying it, but it needed saying. "Maybe we should try and eat at the camp fire?"

Daryl didn't explode or tense up and stomp away like she thought he would. He actually spared the group that was behind him a glance, thought a moment with a curious tilt of his head, and then nodded tersely.

"Maybe we should."

Glen was speechless.

_Daryl was really serious about this..._

She hadn't actually thought he was serious. Mostly because he was 'serious' about survival and hunting. Only. Exclusively.

_Huh? Maybe Merle shoulda been a jackass more often._

She felt immediately bad for thinking that, but pushed it away. It was the past. And she didn't look at her past any longer.

"Just as long as ya keep that old nigger away from me." And Daryl was back.

Glen smirked and promptly assured, "Beat him off with a stick if that's what it takes."

A moment of silence settled over them as Amy received her birthday gift from Andrea. There was a high-pitched squeal that would probably attract the attention of that Walker Glen had seen in the morning; her face she wore, bright with a smile and glowing with joy, was enough to make Glen think: _perhaps it wasn't so bad. Perhaps there could be happiness._

Glen then, of course, mentally knocked on wood hard and fast and hoped to God that wishing **that** would not come back to bit her on the ass.

It always did though. Come back and bite her, that is.

* * *

There had always been a tree trunk big enough for at least four people to sit on that was always left at least half empty, just in case Glen and Daryl and even - tentatively, of course - Merle, did want to be part of the group: Daryl nor Merle nor Glen had ever taken them up on the offer.

Tonight, they did.

When they joined the group, everything fell silent.

Everyone had seen them coming, continued talking, but as soon as their asses had hit the trunk - silence. Like a wave of it running over the people.

 _Maybe this was a bad idea,_ Glen though, staring resolutely down at the ground.

Daryl had no qualms about staring every single person around him in the eye, but Glen just couldn't. Not at the moment. She'd had enough of leading for one day. She's had enough of holding some random ass kid at gunpoint. Had enough of hot-wiring a car and speeding off to get back in time to see the world continue.

Now she just wanted to be a follower. Daryl was doing a good job of leading if the quiet restart of murmurs had anything to say for it and Glen slowly looked up to see many of the campers resolutely not meeting either Glen's nor Daryl's eyes. It was a relief.

It took a little bit, but everyone soon grew slightly accustom to them. Started with the light start-up of conversation that was stilted and hurried. If Daryl or Glen said anything, the magic would be broken, but at the moment - everyone was satisfied.

"Sorry about your brother, Daryl." Came a small voice to Daryls' right.

Glen froze completely from where she had been relaxing as she looked over to see Carols daughter looking at Daryl. Staring up at the now turned-towards-her Dixon, were the two biggest and bluest eyes Glen had ever seen.

Blond haired, the child didn't look a thing like her parents. She was much too pretty.

Daryl grunted, "Thanks, I guess."

He looked flustered for the first time Glen could ever remember, especially as the little girl settled next to him, looking up at him all trusting and held her hands in her lap. The women around the circle slowly stopped all conversation. The men were a little bit more oblivious, but also watched with at least one eye on Daryl at all times.

"You're the one who always brings back the meat, right? Like rabbits and stuff?" The girl asked again, completely fearless and very frank.

It kind of melted Glen's heart a bit as Daryl nodded, once. Finality in the one move but the action much softer than his usual firm, no-nonsense self.

"That's really cool." Her face lit up, then she went on a tangent like all little children were always doing. "Carl says I can't hunt cause I'm a girl, but I could, I could do it..."

There was a fire in the girl that Glen quite liked. It reminded her of... _something_. She couldn't put her finger on it.

"Do you think I'd be good?" She asked Daryl, shly. A complete contrast to her personality up until then.

"Never seen you shoot, so I can't say I'd be a good judge," Daryl said honestly.

instead of looking heart broken that the man wasn't playing nice, the little girl nodded firmly instead of pouting, her mouth set into a line. "You're right. I'll just have to practice."

"Sophia, you aren't bothering them are you?" Carol, her mother called out right across the campfire. Glen observed the near constant fidgeting of her hands and almost smiled cruelly - for her benefit. But she refrained because Sophia looked cowed.

 _Sophia._ Glen saved the name away. _So that's her name._

It's quite pretty.

And Glen said as much. As well as assuring Carol, whom she faintly remembered snapping at, that, "Sophia isn't bothering us. Is she Daryl?"

The hunter didn't even really move when he said, "No."

"Foods ready," Lori said, interrupting before Carol could prod, then proceeded to bring the cans away from the fire and started passing them around, making sure there was a hot-pad for each can.

"Careful now, it's hot." She warned each child before handing the food over. Glen got a can of sweet-barbecue beans and Daryl received something with a little bit of fake meat in it. After a bite or two, it was time to trade with your next door neighbor. So everyone got a bite of everything.

Glen had observed dinner enough times that she knew this, Daryl caught on when she didn't fight the change of pace. Handed over his meaty-concoction without snapping, too. Something that was a little foreign to the Dixon, but he wouldn't be lying if he didn't say he wanted to taste what the others were having. It had been a long time of the same old same old, Daryle was more than willing to play nice for a good bite of pork.

It was quiet, as everyone laddeled food into their mouths and quenched the hunger that had been gnawing on their insides. The children giggled every so often as they whispered when the vegetables landed in their laps, a few refusing to eat a choice vegetable because of taste, or texture.

It was the most normal Glen had felt in a long while. Which was something considering only hours before she had been mourning the loss of one of the Dixons. Stirring her carrots as Daryl stayed silent and brooding beside her.

 _In fact, why was she feeling so normal after such a tragedy?_ Glen knew she kind of liked the man like a brother of sorts, just because. He had saved her. She felt connected to him. But his presence being gone left a hole that she was filling up with anything she could. It was frantic in a way she hadn't known before. Because with her ginger, it had it always been different.

Merle being gone just made it that much more obvious.

Maybe... maybe they should have joined the campfire gang long ago.

"What's with the watch, Dale?" Andrea asked suddenly, as she licked her spoon clean.

"Pardon?" The elderly man asked. Glen had never taken much time to get to know the people, but she filed his name away as well. Dale. Sophia. Turning into a right gathering of aquaintences.

"I've been wondering the same thing," Jacqui said, as she stirred her radishes. There was quite a lot the radishes left, mostly because that was one vegetable the kids all unanimously opposed.

Amy chimed in. "You keep rewinding that old watch again and again and again, like the world **hasn't** ended or.. or _something_."

The girls all kind of giggled, including Lori and Carol.

Glen listened with a kind of growing sense of confusion as the man quoted some deep and profound crap about life and time and how you can master it if you could only have your hand on it. It was kind of beautiful. Almost worth breaking into the group herself by quoting something she knew.

 _Lost time is never found again_ , something her mother used to quote to her when her school work wasn't finished.

But Glen was still unsure about this group. She still wasn't happy with them.

Honestly, they probably were not happy with her.

Lori stood up and started towards the camper, the one that Dale owned; Glen wasn't sure why but everyone was all of the sudden watching her like she was the most entertaining thing all night. The sisters neck's snapped to attention as the woman walked. The clearing silences itself.

Rick fidgeted nervously. More than he had when those Walkers had almost nabbed him back in Atlanta.

"Where are you going?" Rick asked, wiping away a bit of sauce from his lip as he watched his wife walked away. Carl and Sophia barely paid any attention to his mom leaving, too busy ladeling a scoop of carrots into the grass and looking away as the adults attention was elsewhere.

Lori stopped sheepishly, a nervous titter to her voice before taking a stance of power and looking at her husband as if he was an idiot, "Peeing, Honey. Can't be discreet about _anything_ anymore, can we?"

She looked embarrassed, her face sprinkled red, and her arms crossed.

The whole group chuckled, but Daryl and Glen watched the goings on silently. Daryl had his eye on the camper, watching and waiting for Lori to come back. Glen had her ears open for anything. The conversation dropped off around them, until Glen couldn't even rightly say if anyone was even speaking.

The silence was getting to her. Making her skin crawl. She didn't even notice that she had stopped eating, spoon halfway to her mouth.

"Too quiet," Daryl muttered to himself, looking backwards at the camper broodingly. Glen had to agree with him.

She was used to the quietness of the forest, but that wasn't necessarily **silent**. There was always movement, sound, little things happening everywhere all at once. Movement. Like a river.

Nothing was happening in the forest. It was unnatural.

"Shhh," Glen hushed everyone loudly as she dropped her spoon back into her can and set it aside. It was so out of character and out of the blue that the group quieted as one.

Daryl and Glen both listened to the new sounds that were starting to become more and more present. Dragging, shuffling, a kind of slow and moist sound.

_Damnit. Seriously? Walkers?_

"Walkers." Glen rose in anger, and grabbed her knife as well as made sure her pistol was still strapped to her leg.

"Fucking hell," Daryl said, as she rose, grabbing his cross-bow off his back and turned towards the forest.

At their sudden movement the rest of the camp rose to get their shit together as well.

Except it was too late. Glen saw it was too late the same moment everyone at their campfire did.

"We're out of toilet paper," Lori declared as she slammed the door open to the camper, loudly and unnecessarily flamboyant. "Geesh. You'd think we could keep toilet paper longer than that- goooahhhhhh!"

Glen and Daryl both missed the Walker that had crawled under the camper and was now munching on Lori's foot. Signing her death with meaty crunches. They weren't the only one's missing things.

Nobody thought to shield the children's eyes.

"Walkers!" One of the campers shouted, a hefty guy who's eyes were wide with terror. "DEAR GOD, WALKERS!"

His screaming attracted the other Walkers in the forest that had only been stumbling towards them because of the light of the campfire.

 _Holy shit,_ Glen snarled to herself as she readied her knife. There were **way** more than Glen had thought possible. Ten were coming from behind them, another five from behind the camper, four more to her right and eight to her left.

"Protect the children!" Andrea shouted as she brought up her shotgun and fired the first shot into the night, Amy was standing behind her sister, shaking but with her knife at the ready. Daryl followed soon after, then T-dawg, Rick with tears streaming down his face, Shane next.

The stiffness of the two men's shoulders was enough to tell Glen everything she needed to know. Lori was dead. They knew it. Both of the men had some kind of stake on her life and now it was gone. What was a life when it was gone? **Priceless** , of course.

It seemed like everyone had a gun and was using it, except for the children who were corralled behind a circle of mothers, minus one, and elder women. Like elephants would for their young.

Glen saw a Walker jump out and nab the guy who had been screaming. Over by another campfire, three people were taken down. By another, four. _How had they even had that many people?_

A child screamed and Glen felt her heart race as the Walker numbers not only doubled, but **tripled**.

 _They must have followed us from Atlanta,_ is all Glen can think as she shoots and stabs until she thinks she's covered in her own blood, perhaps a bite had gotten through her albeit shoddy defense system which was nonexistent, which isn't the truth, but it still feels like it. In fact, the more she fights, the more blood sloughs from her arms and masked her scent - giving her the slightest advantage. Slowing her down as it grew in texture and heaviness.

It's over before it truly ends.

The Walkers are mowed down with an efficiency that Glen knew was inside each and everyone of them, but hadn't even seen in action. It was almost surprising how well they all had worked together in that moment of need. Terrifying, because Glen now knew what anybodies fate would be if they so much as **tried** to threaten their group.

The group was split up a ways, in between camps and surrounded by the dead. There were so few of them left, that Glen actually almost started counting.

Glen, not really all there, heard the first sound of the night pierce through her hazy mind.

A gross sobbing.

"Lori! LORI, NO!" RIck cried again and again into his wife, blood covering her throat and shirt from where a Walker must have dragged her down and chomped at her head. Up to Rick's forearms were covered in blood, all his wifes. He had his face buried in her chest.

Carl stood next to his father and his dead mother, looking at the scene dazed.

 _How could it happen this way?_ Glen wondered as she felt herself sicken at Rick's pitiful cries. _Wouldn't it have been kinder just to kill her off before Rick had become apart of their group. What kind of sick joke was this? Wouldn't it have been kinder just to let Rick die rather than see this?_

Glen couldn't watch anymore and turned to Daryl, who had had her back in the fight. He was gathering up the closest arrows he had, plucking them from heads and jabbing them into other's.

Glen caught his eye and asked her usual question.

"Bite?"

"'m Fine." he says, somberly. A new look for Daryl as he took out the arrows and finished the job of other dead campers. A jab through the head so they never rise again. He doesn't ask if she's alright, kind of just looks her over and then waits for an answer.

Glen just shakes her head, looking around to see what she can see.

Destruction is what she sees. A lot of it. A lot of blood. A lot of broken families.

_Damn it. They had such a good thing going too._

For some reason, through her shaking, she's trying to remember how to feel human. It is escaping her. Like she is reaching for a thought she just can't grab.

"I remember why now," One of the skinnier guys said as everyone stood in the clearing, in various positions. "Why I dug those holes..."

Then he wandered off, near the clearing on the opposite side of the camp without saying anything more.

Glen was afraid to ask what that was about.

Based on Shane's face, it wasn't good.

* * *

It took them all of the next day to bury their dead and then burn the Walkers. After looking over everyone, it was a little depressing to note that only about thirteen or sixteen of them had survived. (It fluctuated too much for Glen to keep track of) And the ones not in the immediate group that Glen knew were already packing up ready to leave and take their chances on the road. Ruined for large groups.

Which left just... them. T-dawg, Carol, Dale, Andrea, Amy, Shane, Rick, Carl, herself and Daryl. That guy who had walked off, too, whose name Glen now knew as Jim. He'd had some kind of prophetic dream and had been digging holes before Glen and her gang had returned the day before.

Nobody had thought to mention it, and really, glen couldn't blame them.

Carol's husband had gotten 'snacked' on sometime during the day. Even so- nobody was quite mourning him; for a variety of reasons. He had been part of the attack against them all. Glen had observed how un-torn up the woman who was once his wife was, even as she stared her dead husband in the face. Her face was unreadable and if Glen had seen Carol kick him in the arm, repeatedly, she wasn't going to tell anyone. It was the least she could do for being an ass.

"What's the plan?" Dale asked, the only one actually thinking about the future. Everyone was still in shock over what had all happened in such a short span of time. Merle being locked on the rooftop, the grandiose meeting of Rick and Lori, the grandiose losing of Lori... **And** then this... this debauchery.

Glen may not like people, but she _never_ wished anything like what she had seen on them.

Not even T-dawg. Not on her worst enemy.

T-dawg wiped his face with the back of his hand. Seeing as nobody else was volunteering any wisdom he puffed up and tried to look important. "Regroup. Leave... go somewhere far away."

Glen rolled her eyes but tried to keep her snarls to a minimum. She was feeling antsy thought. It was hard to control her instincts when she was getting so... fed up with being human.

"Where would we go?" Andrea asked, hugging her sister to her who was still in shock.

"We need a place to go," Shane said, leaning against a tree and bent over, he'd been puking his guts out not a few minutes before. "Ain't gonna be here."

They'd just put Lori into the ground, after all. Rick wasn't anywhere to be seen. Neither was Carl.

" **Is** there anyplace _to go_?" Jacqui asked, oppressively. She didn't even look up when she had spoken.

Glen had seen a massive change in Jacqui in just a few short hours. Like a light had been killed within the skinny woman. Her smile was much more forced now. Didn't come as lightning quick as it had. Had she lost someone in the battle?

Glen had never thought of that...

It didn't matter though, Jacqui wasn't going to last long. Glen acknowledged that fact herself but didn't dare voice it out loud... that never ended well. It was like giving a death sentence. Saying something was as good as doing it. As good as killing her herself.

Glen had too much blood on her hands.

Looking down, Glen cracked a smile, _**Literally**_.

"Need a place that's... protected. Fucking Walker's can't climb fences." Glen chimed in as she re-tied her pony-tail. The blood seeping through her fingers and into the thin hair.

"So what? A school? Like a public school? Maybe a gated community?" T-dawg threw out helpfully, looking away from the gruesome sight she made. Much more helpful than anyone else was being.

Shane then hesitated as he stood straight. "What about... what about the CDC?"

 _The CDC?_ Glen thought as if she had been slapped in the fact. The place that was supposed to be 'the one place' left on earth where scientists were all working on the cure? That place?

The fantasy that Glen had heard **all** about _every day_ since she had gotten here.

Then again Glen had also heard a rumor that it had been shut down tight for weeks.

Another rumor that the Walkers roamed so close, nobody dared to come near.

It was a story. A fantasy.

"It.. It might be plausible." Jacqui said. There was no real hope in her voice, just pure agreement. Go along with it for the sake of the group.

It made Glen sick. A twisted kind of sick though, like smelling something and having just thrown up after eating that something.

Dale scoffed. "If we're willing to bet it all on _nothing_ , yeah sure."

T-Dawg looked thoroughly confused. "I don't understand, wouldn't the place where they are trying to find a cure for whatever this is... wouldn't it be the safest place?"

 _Poor naive T-dawg,_ Glen thought nastily as she took a step back and allowed the group to bicker and squabble over things that really didn't matter. She wondered when the rest of the people would see that.

Nobody spared her a glance as they all were caught up in their own little world. Each trying to find a way to be important and to reset the social ladder to include all of them.

Glen wanted no part in their politics.

As Glen walked away, she thought about just what the hell they were going to do. It didn't matter **where** they went. Every single place was just as dangerous as the next place. A fence would only last so long. Food would be the deciding factor.

Really it would all depend on their ability to survive.

Or... well, everyone's ability to protect each other.

 _Damn,_ Glen never thought she was going to actually have to say that.

Thankfully it wasn't out loud.

* * *

Glen found Daryl by the small creek near their tent. He had only his boxers on, that he had taken from one of those really nice mannequins in a Macies and he was washing his other clothing. Seeing the cool water and Daryl's abs, Glen decided, _why the hell not?_

The fact that her elbow joints were sticking together from the blood on her arms, also kind of made her decide a good clean was what she needed.

Perfect time to clean up, after all, when the other half of the group was having an identity crisis.

She shrugged off her shirt, seeing for the first time the blood that was matted on her left half. _Probably going to be unsalvageable,_ she thought to herself as she tossed it into the cool water to soak. Her pants came next, into the water they went.

Same as the shirt, it was caked with blood.

As soon as Glen stepped into the water, goose pimples blossoming on her arms and she realized just how much she had underestimated the blood on herself. The grime was deep into her pores. How far it had gone. It hadn't really crossed her mind why it was so hard to blink, or move her jaw away from her neck, or really move her left arm at all - but now it was crystal clear.

The blood had caked in layers. One on top it the other and as she dunked into the water, the blood ran very pink in the water.

It took a long time to rub the blood out of her hair as well. Each stroke brought more and more blood blooming into the water until it ran red and spread around to the outlying sand like a flower. Watching the water run red made her stare harder and harder, trying to see something that wasn't there.

She snapped as she sat in the shallow water.

It wasn't even a particularly violent episode. This one was much more of a _'checking out from reality'_ than throwing rocks at dangerous dogs, like she had a few weeks ago. Glen sat in the water and tried to forget, wipe all of the blood out of her memory. Fingers bit into her palm as she tried, in vain, to remember what it must have felt to be human.

Saving Rick had given her that heedy feeling right? That feeling that... there was _some_ kind of good inside her? That feeling of warmth she rarely felt anymore. It had lasted up until Lori had gotten chomped, at least. But what was the point of saving someone, getting them back together with their family, and then watching that get torn apart in front of her very eyes? What was the point?

It took her a while, in her mind it seemed like hours, to get herself and her breathing back under control. To push Rick out of her mind and everything that had just happened, seven hours prior, but she did it.

Freezing and cold but for the most part, freed of the blood in her hair, she came back to herself.

When she finally looked over to Daryl, making a quick check of the surrounding area, she met his eyes.

He was as clean as he was ever going to get. The blood had run down his body in rivlets, still leaving behind a pinkish stain against his tanned skin. His hair was sopping wet, hanging down his face almost to his chin.

But his eyes were piercing as he watched her get the rest of the blood out. He must have been watching her, waiting for her to come back from where she had gone - into her mind.

"How many?" He asked, one of his rare questions making her pause as she scrubbed at her bra with some sand , trying to get the red stain off the blue fabric.

_How many what? Dead? Killed?_

"That I killed?" She asked, raising her eyebrow.

He nodded. She turned her lips upward, not really smiling but showing her amusement that Daryl gave even a half a damn.

"Like... Fuck... ten?"

He nodded. "Nineteen."

Glen whistled low, "Impressive, Daryl boy-o. Anyone I know?"

His yellowed teeth shone in the light as he said, "Might have been... the shit-stain father of that lil' girl."

Glen understood immediately why he was in such a good mood. For some reason, _she really didn't know why,_ she hadn't thought Daryl was watching the camp at all. It was _now_ that she understood he had been watching closer than even she had. Which made sense. Daryl had like.. **eight senses**. Sound, sight, touch, smell and taste - all normal sure, but Daryl had three more:

A sixth sense about hunting, a seventh sense about danger, and an eight sense about children being damaged.

If there was one thing Daryl Dixon would watch for and **not stand for** : is dumbasses making little children's lives terrible in this already shitty time.

" **Good**." Glen said, her voice was soft but it carried on the wind. They stopped talking as she dunked her head to release more of the dirty, grime, and blood that had softened in her time off from reality.

Words really didn't need to be said after that, because Daryl was smug at his accomplishment and Glen was also proud to know that Daryl would kill ass-hats without a care to the contrary. It was a nice little comfort blanket, she liked to think. Knowing that even if Daryl could kill indiscriminately, he had a kind of moral code that helped him along.

It made that little warm spot in her chest, that was reserved for cute moments and heart warming acts of kindness, start up. Made her feel like her chest was full of butterflies on fire. She felt her face heat up and dunked herself for longer, scrubbing her scalp raw.

There was a rustling in the forest that had both Glen and Daryl whipping around to look towards the noise. Daryl was already loading his cross bow, but waited patiently for what was to come.

"Daryl! Glen!" The voice came. Glen knew it was Amy's, even before she stepped through the foliage, batting it away and then seeing them. "Hey where are- OH."

Amy's face burst into color as she resolutely looked away from both Glen and Daryl, who were standing half naked in the stream still. Glen had even stood up to see who had been coming for them.

"Whatcha' need Amy?" Glen asked as she grabbed her pants and shirt and wrung them out. She'd placed a few rocks on them to keep them stationary and a lot of the blood had been seeping slowly out, but the clothes were still a mess. She'd have a better chance going naked, but she didn't have that option.

"Uhm, well we're just making decisions and we thought you all should be there - that is if you guys are going to stay and well... I don't know we were hoping -" The poor girl was stumbling so much Glen was almost sure she was going to physically stumble.

Glen didn't need to look at Daryl to answer, "We'll be there. Give us a few."

Amy nodded, looking at the sun and bolted away, as if she'd never seen a naked person in her life.

Glen's mouth twitched, almost into a full smile but she hid it away. Now really wasn't the time for that. Breathing deeply she set to scrubbing at the loose blood in her clothing.

"Want me to do yours?" She asked absently, but Daryl was already pulling on his thin shirt.

"Already did 'em."

Glen didn't even spare a look at the blood stained shirt, because she knew that that the only thing that could save that scrap of clothing was a long burn in a campfire. And a new shirt. Preferably stolen from a men's department store, but she'd settle for a Kohls.

Five minutes later she was dressed in her clothing that was still wet but she'd wrung it out as much as she could. Daryl was throwing his crossbow over his shoulder as he came over and started walking. It wasn't necessary to look behind her to know that Daryl's quiet feet were following her.

_Now, to the wolves._

_They were more like Puppies,_ Glen thought to herself as she talked closer to Daryl. _Like Puppies that were in wolf bodies._

* * *

**Did you enjoy?**

**If so, PLEASE review!**

(it's kind of like my fuel, or rather Cliff's food)


	10. And Around and Around We Go

Alrighty, first off: Sorry. It's been a long time since I have updated. Truth is I was not motivated at all. The new season has kind of gotten me a little more motivated but I still may not finish enough of it before my muse runs away from me. Again. So I am going to try and write like the wind bulls-eye!

Real quick we switch briefly to Daryl's pov and he uses some of his **favorite** language :) I'm trying to keep true to his character- Maybe SOMEDAY he will grow out of it, but for now... well... He's got some growing up to do. So

**BAD LANGUAGE alert!**

(Seriously are you surprised though? I've dropped more 'F' and 'N' bombs in this story than I have ever thought of. Which, believe me, is **quite** the feat of writing. I feel like I need to wash my brain out with soap sometimes. Or be clubbed, but hey, it's how they talked in the beginning... kind of. Glen is new but - okay I'll shut up now.)

Also, yes, I know Daryl is more quiet in my story than in the show - Glen does a lot of the talking and he's noticed that she talks 'good' too. So he knows she knows what he wants and lets her do whatevers. Some times. Most of the time.

QUESTION: I know I have been crap at updating this story (I have a reason, it's a stupid reason, but it's a reason. I was pissed at some of the elements of the show, but now I am less pissed. Still angry, but well... blah. You know how it goes.)

BUT I need to know what you guys want:

 **Option A** ) Glen and Daryl have baby asskicker (fluffy option. Not my favorite one. Glen will be a little less... Glen, if this happens)  
 **Option B** ) They find baby asskicker (Less emotional connection but hey, its a baby. Daryl protect baby. Glen love baby. Happy day.)  
 _ **Option C**_ ) Someone else at camp has baby asskicker and the baby is still Shane's, born a little bit after Lori had her (This is the Default option if nobody gives me any good feedback. Because I have some dark stuff I can do with this option. Like... Really dark. I may scare myself with it. It will move this up to 'M' if it wasn't already.)

The baby is going to be in this story if it **kills** **me** , though, she can't exactly be in it because _I killed Lori._ So. Well. There you have it. Need a baby but we need a different vessel... That sounded weird and wrong. - shudders -

* * *

_**And Around and Around We Go** _

* * *

Stepping foot back in the clearing, Glen noticed that everything had changed. It was so different from how it was last night, that it was palpable. Whereas last night, the evening had been begun with joyful almost, sober silence - the clearing left behind in the aftermath was something more silent than death. It clung to all of them. The women, the children. The earth. No animals made a sound. Nobody did really.

Glen wasn't much of a person for religious things. People following someone speaking for a God didn't settle well with her. She had no problem believe there was one. Because people could do terrible, terrible things, but it seemed, so could nature. So no, church wasn't for her. The spiritual, on the other hand. That she could get behind.

The blood stains in the grass and the eerie noise-lessness was enough to make Glen go back to that dark place in her mind. The one that snarled at humanity and scoffed at feeling soft. That made her want to go sit in the river and cry, and rage, until she felt human again. Felt, not necessarily **was**. A mimicry of Daryl's own easy emotionless face at peak moments of action. She'd never admit that she was copying that one thing from Daryl. The thing she assumed was keeping him alive.

_That would be weakness to admit that, right? To trust in someone else so completely..._

But didn't she already?

"Glen." Shane said, his voice hoarse. "Daryl."

He waved them over. It was then that Glen noticed Rick and Carl were sitting listlessly on the trunk that had been shared last night. Neither of them talking. She wisely said nothing. There were no words. None to say for Lori. None to say for them.

Stiff nods all around, Glen and Daryl hung back from the loose circle with the seventeen people who had survived the attack last night. Mothers huddled their children around them, men stood with hands in pockets. A mere fraction of what they had been. Glen noticed a family on the edge, like Daryl and herself. Their stuff packed up and ready to go. It was clear, body language and unspoken tension within the camp both; they would be leaving.

Glen felt a moment of darkness creep in as she observed that half of them were children.

The group had a kind of finality to it that hadn't been there the night before.

Then again... _Nothing had been final the night before._

"The Morales family have decided to go their own way," Glen didn't need Shane's explanation, but it was nice all the same.

There was shuffling of feet. It drew Glen back to the now. Reality.

She looked over the motley crew. Her eyes landed on the back-pack wearing group once again and felt the near impossible-to-ignore urge to tell them they were making a mistake. A huge one. They would not survive. That they were doomed, just like everyone else who separated from the pack. She wanted to tell them. But she couldn't.

To admit that they could die alone, as a group, would be the same as admitting why she and Daryl were staying.

She kept her mouth shut.

The father, mother and children of varying ages, but none as young as Sophia, looked nervous but resolute as they stood a ways away from the group. The separation was already clear in their shoulders, in the way they held themselves. The children were a little less rigid, going for the wide eyed look of terror still not yet recognized. Unsure of how the world was working. Glen couldn't blame them. After all, it had been only a month ago that one of them had been getting ready for prom. She remembered hearing of that.

One of the kids couldn't keep her hands from twitching. She'd be the first, Glen thought grimly. Keeping her thoughts to herself. The father was standing straight, as straight as he could without slumping, and looking ahead without moving. Morales.

Glen had nothing against the man. He'd been fine when they'd gone into Atlanta... so she held no grudges.

It wasn't like **he** had tied Merle up. That was all on T-dawg.

Getting away from those darker thoughts with a shake of her head; she nodded at the family.

"Good luck."

_They would need it._

Daryl on the other hand didn't sense the need for shortness. Or perhaps he knew something she didn't. He just kinda looked them over in that way Glen immediately perked up towards. Daryl didn't give attention away all willy-nilly like that. Didn't give even one-shit about many things. Which made the little family of five nervous, the daughter stepping behind her father. Maybe that made up Daryl's mind for him, because he didn't exactly soften, he wouldn't do that in front of people, but he didn't look as hard.

"If ya can," Daryl said, surprising everyone. "I'd say stay off the road. Ain't got enough of you to make a difference."

Morales nodded, weary.

"Not everybody's as nice as our lot. Not by a long shot."

The clearing was silent. Everyone standing on pins and needles.

"We'll remember that." The wife answered, tugging her son back to her.

The clearing didn't get much more buzzy after that. Within the hour, the family gave them all a wave goodbye and left. Hurried along as if another wave of walkers would come and sweep them up.

They didn't take a car.

As it grew silent, the sound of the family drawing farther away, neither Daryl nor Glen stayed silent.

"They're not going to make it a week." Even after all he had proclaimed for the family, Daryl was still a realist.

Glen snorted. "You're giving them a week?"

That was a little too nice, even for Daryl.

Merle's voice echoed in her mind: _I'd say give'em a minute!_

He wasn't there to say it though, so Glen refused to speak them. Those words would go unspoken forever now.

"You're right," He admitted thoughtfully. "Four days?"

She smiled at him, laughter in her eyes. _Thank you, God, for Daryl. What would I do without his dark sense of humor?_

" **That's** more like it."

Daryl cracked a smile at Glen, but the others in the group didn't understand. Didn't understand the brand of humor-healing that Glen had developed with the two Dixons... perhaps just the one left. Didn't understand that sometimes gallows humor was all that was left at the gallows.

Until the axe swung, anyway. Or the rope tightened.

"What the **fuck** is wrong with you guys?"

Glen and Daryl looked over to see Andrea holding a quickly paling Amy to her chest, like a baby. The children were not around, but Rick and Shane even looked a little horrified that, not even a few minutes gone, and they were talking about the demise that was surely to come to the family.

Glen found she couldn't care. Didn't give two-shits about them. Not even as she threw her lot in with them.

"We're not in the business of lying." Glen said, as way of explaining.

Daryl stared ahead, his jaw working, still angry, at what Glen didn't know, but trying his best to hide it. "They'r'as good as dead. They've got three kids and two of them."

He shook his head ruefully.

"Nothing we can do about that." Glen nodded, unsure, as she watched Daryl.

T-Dawg was the one who glared at them and answered for the entire group.

"Well, be that as it may. Can you be a little quieter about it?"

That was, of course, the wrong thing to say.

She saw it coming a mile away, the tense shoulders, the twisting towards T-dawg. And Glen was ready for it.

Glen smacked her entire arm into Daryl's chest to stop him. Her arm was nothing to a man who could kill a buck with nothing but a pocket knife, but he held back for her. From ripping the black man a new one. For simply daring to voice his opinion. The tension between the two would never leave and Glen knew that as long as she was there to at least deter Daryl: the other man wouldn't die. Not today, at least. But it was getting hard to hold back the much stronger man without him at least allowing her.

It was getting harder, too, because Glen wasn't exactly on T-Dawgs side.

"What'd we talk about?" Glen said quietly, enough so that the others had to strain to hear it. They heard it though. Heard the demand. Soft spoken as it was.

"Wasn't part of the deal." Daryl said, glaring at T-Dawg. He didn't push as hard though. "I said you'd hafta keep him off me. Nothing 'bout the other way around."

Glen rolled her eyes. _Typical_.

"Who am I keeping off who? Huh, Daryl?"

Daryls' entire tensed up body that was straining against her much weaker hold suddenly lurched back and he glared at her as if she wasn't playing fair. Which she wasn't. She'd take the words right out of Merles mouth, after all. And Daryl knew that.

"We're either all in or all out, Daryl." She glared right back.

Looking into his eyes Glen said, "Choose."

Daryl didn't look back. Jaw flexing as he turned to look away.

Everyone in the clearing looked between the two of them. Never seeing such an intimate side to either of them. Glen had only a the other day been fighting tooth and nail to tear half their camp apart for that racist-asshole. Daryl never really talked, just grunted or stared. He was steady. Glen didn't waver from her path, no matter what. Daryl, too. So everyone watched as the two enigmas of the camp stared each other down, speaking to each other like... family.

Daryl's jaw moved into a crooked, thoughtful angry look and he looked down his nose at Glen. Looked over at the group, worked his jaw a moment, then thoughtfully glanced at the sky.

He was unsure. Glen knew it. He needed to be sure, he needed to be on a path. With a small sigh, she spoke.

"I'll follow. You **know** I will"

It was all Glen promised. Was all she ever really promised. She'd said it so many times, though, you'd think he would get it?

This time though, it did the trick. Something oozed out of him. Left him dry of whatever emotion had him so worried, so sharp. Daryl deflated but didn't quite relieve all the tension in his shoulders. He only stared at her. Straight through her. Those narrowed brown eyes of his opening a little wider.

"Fine." Is what he said instead of answering any of the questions asked of him. Just like Glen thought he would.

Then he walked off, back towards their part of camp. Towards the river. Towards the holes filled with the dead.

No violence today. Not of his making.

Turning to the campers who had watched their interaction carefully, Glen laid down the law, as she was becoming **very** used to doing with Daryl gone and everyone looking at her like she was a saint or at least some kind of superhero. Or maybe a leader.

_Why did it have to be me?_

She didn't want this... never did.

 _Why the hell couldn't the cowboys be more... leader-y?_ Glen thought with a sigh.

"They're going to die." She said as a way of starting, which lead to almost everyone snorting, rolling their eyes, or looking at her scandalized. A few almost turned away.

 _Babies. Babies, the lot of them._ Glen growled at herself, not angry at them for once. Babies didn't deserve her anger.

"You wanna know how I know that? How Daryl knows?"

Nobody answered. The question was clear. The answer even more so. They had always wanted to know. Wanted to know how they could sense danger. Could become something altogether not human, while retaining the characteristics of a human. They all, also, didn't want to be responsible for knowing.

But they already knew. Glen knew they **knew**.

"Nobody survives on their own."

She waited a second, not even a tick, before smiling cruelly. "Ever wonder why you never see the same people twice? Wonder why Walker's travel in herds, but people don't? Ever wonder why we got attacked like we were? Even in such a big group?"

"They aren't alone." Andrea said, in defense of the Morales family.

"They've got kids!" Amy protested. Weakly. As if even she saw the stupidity in her words. "There are five of them."

"Kids don't count." Glen said matter-of-factly. She'd seen what happened when there were not enough kids to adult ratio. She'd seen the aftermath. "Not unless they have enough strength to equally take on the weight of the jobs assigned like their parents. Two plus two equals four. In this case, there are many other variables. Okay? Nothing is set in stone and they are just placing more and more against them instead of **for** them."

Glen said it as if it was a math equation. One that was two parts logical and another part cold, hard, and completely unfeeling.

"It doesn't work."

"They can so do it. They can survive." Andrea agreed with her sister, which just made Glen roll her eyes.

"Tell you what, you tell me - did those kids of theirs look able to hunt? Able to kill anybody in cold blood? How about thieving? Stealing?"

Andrea's mouth shut with a click.

"Do you think they could do it when somebody else is breathing down their neck?"

The clearing was silent, again, as they mulled over the sudden wisdom coming from the asian girl in the center of it all. Glen was sick and tired of their holier-than-thou attitude but it would be stupid on her part to point it out to them. They'd learn.

They'd learn on their own. She'd be around to see it all fall down around them. See if they were worthy to pick up the pieces. But she wasn't going to hold their hands and lead them to the revelation.

Nobody had done that for her.

"Now, we done here?"

Again, nobody said anything. The sisters both looking away.

"Good."

"Next question: We packing up or we staying?"

* * *

The flurry of movement in the camp was the most Glen had seen in hours.

Watching them, Glen hoped they would make it. For her sake, if not their own. They'd lost too many people. Would lose too many more.

She winced as Andrea and Amy started arguing over something inconsequential but loudly. Something that was from another life. Jacquie, who hadn't participated **at all** in any of their conversations, sat by the trees with a man, who Glen thought was Jim. Rick, Carl, and Shane were moping - not quite ready to do anything. Not that Glen blamed them.

Wasn't like she was planning on doing much either.

T-Dawg and Dale were the only pro-active ones. Working to get the camp all packed up into the camper and the truck.

 _Life just got more and more difficult_ , Glen acknowledged dimly as she set her shoulders and walked forward, into the camp.

Why couldn't she have a moment to just break down?

_... Well, again._

* * *

Jim was the next in the long line of casualties. Only he should have been dead long before that. Should have died with the rest of the camp when the Walkers had come for them.

What with the bite and all.

When it had been revealed, rather badly in a fluid moment that starkly contrasted how Glen herself had found out about most people's bite wounds, the whole camp had thrown hissy fit after hissy fit over **what to do**. The human way or the survival way. The man was going to die. Just depended on if they were going to help him into his grave or send him to it.

Glen had left the clearing at that, not caring what they did so long as they didn't ask her for her input. She drew the line at willingly participating in these stupid talks they had. Over morality. Over humanity.

 _Just kill him, get it over with._ She hadn't said that. No she'd left. Left them to squabble.

Daryl had stayed behind.

His vote cast for killing the guy swiftly, humanely, without the risk of him turning and biting others. Jim had appreciated it. Even as he looked sickly. Even as he looked ready to toss-his-cookies at any moment.

The others choose differently. Rick, Amy, Andrea, Dale, and -

Some... the exact same as Daryl. Shane and Jacqui.

Then they argued. Some switched sides, others stayed firm, others silent.

Glen didn't stick around to hear anything more. She sat down next to the river and waited out the world. Listened to the silence of the forest that was comforting in a way it hadn't been for the last night or so.

The forest didn't have any stupid judgement calls to make. Didn't have any morality.

It was an eat or be eaten world.

"And then there were fourteen." She thought as she stared as a bird land on a tree branch in front of her. It wasn't an accurate number. She didn't think but she wasn't going to count them all. That would be pointless in case somebody else died.

She couldn't get attached. Refused.

After Doug, she had promised that the Dixons would be the last to have any part of her heart. Her mind. They would be the last she would be loyal to. The last. The very last, because her loyalty meant she would go down swinging. Heart bared. Gun loaded. Armed. Dangerous.

And by God, she'd stayed with it. She had been good. Faithful. No saving anybody the Dixon's hadn't explicitly stated were to be saved or trusted. Shot when asked to shoot. Stayed silent when asked to shut up. She followed. Like a good little girl.

Then the camp had happened.

A gold mind. The supplies they'd seen was enough to get them thinking to stay with them for a while before stealing some stuff and leaving. It was just supposed to be a pitstop. Merle had laughed only a few days before.

"Only room enough for three."

She'd laughed with him.

Now, here they were, about to follow this stupid camp wherever they were going to end up because they were too few. Three against the world was one thing, two trained red-necks against the world was another thing: but Glen and Daryl?

They still had a power dynamic to work out.

Then the idiots of the camp also looked to her as some kind of leader figure. They listened to her.

A novelty she was still trying to get over.

All her life she'd spoken and been shushed. Her opinion heard, but dismissed. It had never stopped her from speaking, but over time she had just expected everyone to wave her away with the same dismissiveness as her own mother had.

But these people hadn't. They'd listened.

And because they had listened _they had survived._

Psychologically... Logically... she could get why they kept coming back to her.

So far, she's been two for two. Those odds... Those odds were telling. Addicting, almost.

 **Hell**. _Glen'd follow if given the chance._

So Glen stewed. She thought and she waited and she cleared her mind out. And once she was done, she felt a little better. A whole lot more than usual.

When she didn't hear a gunshot for well over an hour, Glen sighed, got up off where she had sat her butt down by the river, and made the trek back to the camp where everything was almost all packed up. Jim was sitting cozy over by one of the trees with Andrea. She was glaring at anyone close and with a mouth set firm. Glen was too far away, but he looked like Jim was pale already. The fever taking him.

"We ready?" Glen asked, looking away from Jim and Jacqui towards Dale who seemed to have taken control.

Everyone was in mostly the same area, excluding the two outliers. Sophie and Carol, who had been gone from the little clearing for some time to gather their belongings from the ratty and mangled tent, were just finishing up putting their bags into the RV. Carl was even talking to the girl, scuffing his foot in the dirt just like she was, both of them looking down. Both had lost a parent last night. It kind of tickled Glen's heart and she resolutely looked away from the heart-breaking scene.

"Ready to go in five or so," Dale answered her, shrugging his shotgun to his shoulder.

In four minutes, Glen was counting, Daryl rode up on his motorcycle with their bags packed and buckled into the saddle. Only having a backpack each, it wasn't much. Glen tried not to noticed that Merle's stuff wasn't on the back but didn't succeed. Instead she met Daryl's eyes and he stared straight into her soul. Making her flinch.

"So... are we taking... **him** with us?" Glen asked, avoiding Daryl's eyes. It wasn't him who answered either way.

"Jim?" Shane said, rubbing his head. "Yeah... just until he can't go any farther."

It was then that Jim coughed insistently, blood speckling his lips as he threw up away from Andrea, who was resolutely standing next to him. Like she was his personal guardian angel. A scowl set to her lips. The most emotion she had shown for anything since Atlanta.

 _He looked better than Doug had,_ Glen thought carelessly to herself. Which brought the boys face to her mind. Him smiling and morphing quickly into that dead gaze he had had before Daryl had shot him.

Cursing herself and looking away pointedly towards whoever else in the camp was easier to look at.

Her gaze fell on Jacqui.

 _Not the best alternative_ , Glen mussed to her herself darkly. Pursed lipped. She was the literal dead walking. It was just a matter of time before she went out - in a blaze of glory or in a painful wheezing way - Glen decided she didn't want to talk to either of those choices. Nor look at them.

But she did want to talk to someone.

She didn't even realize her shortness of breath or her slight panic that was uncharacteristic for her. It took her but a moment to realize it wasn't a 'want to' walk to somebody. It was a **need**.

So she went for the easiest person, that would get her mind off of all the biting and death: Rick Grimes.

Because, of course, he wouldn't know a thing about any of that. Would he?

If there was one thing Glen knew, was that after a death in the family, those affected would do most ANYTHING to forget or stop remembering their deceased faces. It had happened with her boyfriend in college. It had happened with her with Doug. Which is exactly what Glen wanted. Normal conversation that would heal the both of them.

Glen forgot that people mourn different. Forgot and remember differently.

She was so wrong, of course. Dead wrong. Rick Grimes had spent the last week of his living life trying to find and protect his wife, thinking she was already dead.

He was anything but sane at the moment.

Glen spotted him over by one of the trucks, duffle bag of guns in hand raised just slightly, staring at the earth. His kid was nowhere to be seen, but neither was Shane. Which meant that their weird torrid love-triangle thingie was something new and... possibly homosexual in nature. Glen didn't care much about which, just as long as poor Carl was fine.

The kid was going to be a mess.

There was a moment more of silence as she stood next to the truck. Rick not even paying any mind to her.

"Hey," She started off saying, tired of the silence, shocking Rick into stiffening and looking up at her, startled.

"When'd you get there?" His voice was soft, but it was that soft that happened after days of crying and non-stop sobbing. His eyes were red and tired and his face looked gaunt and stretched thin.

"Just arrived." She assured, watching him and getting rather nervous as he stared at her. The words she was saying going straight through him. It was an odd thing for Glen to observe.

"What'd you want?"

"Just... to talk?"

"Oh." His blank stare was starting to get to Glen. "About?"

"I guess I didn't have anything specific..."

Glen was starting to think this was the worst idea she could have had. Talking to Shane, who was not taking any kind of mention of happiness or normality well after Lori's death, was a safer bet than this. She didn't know why she had picked the most unknown person in the entire camp to talk to.

 _Damnit. Mistakes were made._ Glen thought to herself before forcing a nonchalant attitude.

"We're moving out in an hour," Glen said, not actually sure if they were. She hadn't planned this far into talking with Grimes. Usually people took it from her and got the conversation going. Unless it was an argument. Those she could start, stop, and finish.

Rick grunted noncommittally and tossed the bag of guns bodily into the back of the truck. "Seems reasonable. Shane and... Carl will be back soon enough."

It was then that Glen noticed the blood on the sleeve of his shirt and even though she knew Jim was still alive, she glanced around. Sensing the impending silence she couldn't keep her mouth closed, though.

"What'd you vote on the ... bite issue?" Glen asked, after feeling unconsciously awkward and almost defensive. Even though she had been the one to come over.

Rick stiffened. Like someone had shot him. Looking over his shoulder, Glen saw with widening eyes, that he looked blank. Blanker, anyway. Completely devoid of any anger or passion. But then that softened. Something broke.

"I voted we put him out of his misery. Same as your Daryl did..." His voice was watery, as if he was going to cry again at any moment. Glen felt decidedly uncomfortable at that.

"I notice you didn't cast a vote."

Glen said nothing and that was that. Rick didn't say another word to her and she didn't say anything back.

They packed up the rest of the part of the camp they were in, Glen giving the helping hand she had promised she would, and then she turned, walked away, hoping she would never have to deal with someone who embodied the Dead Walking so well.

Glen felt drained again. Emotionally. Physically.

* * *

Daryl watched a good portion away from the camp as Glen looked between the female nigger, Andrea, and the dead man, before finally choosing to go over to the cop who she'd saved days before. Perhaps she still wasn't completely recovered from having her semi-mental breakdown, but Daryl could tell, even from this distance, that something wasn't right with her. She was off her game.

Not to say she had been on her game for the last day or so, that is. Ever since the camp had been completely decimated. Glen was a different woman.

Daryl didn't like it.

He could deal with her once-in-a-while bleeding heart. He could live with the fact that she had tried, and failed, to save the last four red-heads they had met because - he was positive - of that little shit named _Doug_ who had died all that time ago. That boys name still sounded sour and stupid in his mind.

Hell, he could even live with the fact that she, _sometimes_ , had a mental breakdown that lasted well over an hour as she threw rocks at anything and everything that moved because she felt **guilty**.

This though. This was the last straw.

Glen had been acting, for all she was worth, as if she was a worthless, no good _girl_. With the sissy moments included. She'd yet to really truly cry, but Daryl knew it was coming.

And he didn't think he could handle that on top of losing Merle.

_Damnit. Merle._

Daryl closed his eyes against the image he had in his mind of Merle, smirking insistently and quirking that stupid eyebrow. A flare of anger made itself known in his chest, and he wanted desperately to punch something, kick someone's ass, or murder the next person to try and threaten either he or Glen. A bitter taste hit the back of his throat as he struggled to right his breathing. Tried to forget Merle for a second or more.

Just so he could breath again.

...Was this what Glen went through whenever she saw another red head? When she thought of something that reminded her of _him_?

It was exhausting. Being this angry, all the time. He wondered if that was why she always tried to save them. Even as close to death as so many of the people they met on the road were.

 _Would he ever be like that?_ He wondered almost worried that he would turn soft.

_Every time he saw a bad tempered redneck, would he feel a compulsion to save them?_

_Fuck this._ He snarled to himself, desperate to forget. The pain in his chest was lessening surely as the day was growing into night, but he was still painfully aware of the lack of Merle in the clearing. The lack of Glen talking to Merle about something or another, about guns, about how lucky she was to get herself in with a pack of good looking brothers.

He could almost hear their banter.

But no. That had been taken from them.

Sharp eyes sought out the black man in their group. The man in question was standing with a few of the other survivors, gathering supplies and sorting them into each car. He didn't look carefree, per se. He didn't even look as if he'd slept. Knowing he hadn't slept was more acceptable to Daryl than he thought it would be.

What was unacceptable was that he was alive and Merle wasn't.

Daryl wasn't about to let the nigger get away with what he'd done, wouldn't let the camp get out of paying for the loss of his brother with their own blood if necessary.

He wasn't a survivor for nothing, after all.

* * *

Once again, sorry for being so long between my last update and this one.

I just. Get into no writing funks and it sucks. I can sometimes write 30K words in a week and other months I just hear crickets in my mind. It's hard to keep up the motivation some times .

But thank you for reading! I will try and finish this story as soon as I can!


	11. Between a Rock and a Hard Place

 

Alright, so as of the 21st (I posted the chapter on monday night late, tonight is wednesday, I know that is a short period of time, don't get used to it) this is the scoring for the options:

A: 2

B: 3

C: 3 (my vote is on this one! :P)

Whichever one is chosen is going to change the outcome of this story... quite drastically. Like... I mean, some people will die depending on ONLY that choice and nothing else :D. AND I do reserve the right to, you know, fuck with the options once chosen. Because yes, someone could get pregnant, but that might not necessarily be little baby ass-kicker (Which yes, if it is Daryl's child, that's gonna be the full name. Ass Kicker Dixon. With maybe Glen interjecting :D ). Sooooo, choose wisely!

_-evil laughing in the distance -_

Well. Alrighty then.

Also. Wait. If I do Prego-Glen - aw damnit, I have to research pregnancy and all that jazz. Welp. You may get some weird internal thoughts via a grumpy and bloated Glen. The fun I could have with cravings though!

Anyways, enough talk of the future, they still have to get there!

Also, this is the point in the story where it takes a sharp diagonal from TV show canon to a mix between TV show and Comic book. So. Yeah. That's going to happen.

Just **remember** in this story, Rick loses Lori earlier than he had before, so that really, really, really, really fucks with him. He's in no position to lead the group. Hell he's not even in a position to give directions to the _dairy-queen in his own town_. Glen and Shane take on most of the 'leading' and that's well... that's gonna change things for that reason.

So, enjoy!

* * *

_**Between a Rock and a Hard Place** _

* * *

The motorcycle was loud.

Glen wasn't about to complain to Daryl that his piece of junk motorcycle was not just _loud_ but rough-riding and not so easy on the crotch. But it was. And she desperately wanted to say something.

_Didn't they make these things any comfier?_

It had been about a day or so since they had left camp. The light of noon, the baking sun, beating down on their backs as they took the RV, the motorcycle, and another of the smaller cars — all packed to the brim with food and supplies — onto the highway. They'd only had to stop a few times, too, to clear a car away from the main lanes. Or a pile of dead bodies. To get fuel from as many cars as they could, stockpiling it.

They'd also stopped once to leave the dying man behind.

Jim had told them all he wasn't going to be able to go any further. The whole lot of them, excluding the children, had crowded into the RV to hear him say it, give a little speech. He had looked so small. Glen hadn't seen sick people a lot. Not anymore. He'd looked at her, too. Had given a sad little smile. Jacqui had looked as if she was going to cry, but only turned and climbed her way to the upper bunk bed, turned so she didn't have to see anyone. It was a pretty quiet occasion. They left him sat by that tree on I-20, hacking up a lung, as they drove off. Glen had almost felt sorry. But she had used up her fuck's quota for the week. She had none left to give for a man stupid enough to get bit.

Overall, comfort aside, things were fine.

Never good. Never great. Never bad. Never worse.

Just fine.

" **When d'you think they're gonna want to stop**?" Glen finally found herself shouting into Daryls ear, impatient with her own discomfort and liabilities.

" **Hour. Two tops.** " He said, and it floated back to her on the wind. Stolen bits of his voice whipping past her ears like satin.

She could only nod and hold on loosely.

Afterall, it was what she had assumed would happen. She just wanted a second opinion.

Then, they started to slow down.

Since Daryl was on the motorcycle, he was in the middle. The car was up front and the RV was in the back, on account of its bulkiness. Daryl had argued, at first, to be put in the front; but had been overruled by the group. Their stupidity knew no bounds. They wanted him to be the buffer between the two larger vehicles. So when the car started slowing, they did too while signaling for the driver of the RV to follow.

 _What now?_ Glen thought irritably and a little worried. She held her hand up dutifully, giving the signal behind her, before looking over Daryl's shoulder. Her heart didn't sink, so much as stutter as she saw, around the car in front of them, the reason they were stopping.

_Fuck._

The highways were a dangerous place to travel. Everyone knew this. Just... not everyone at the beginning of it all. They were taking a risk even thinking they could travel the highway for a moment, let alone a few hours. Thieves, bandits, and Walkers took to them like flies to honey.

Afterall, it was no secret, at the beginning of the whole shitstorm, people had panicked. Bad. And like all good American citizens, they followed the evac-procedures for their towns to the T. Just as everyone else had. So when they got to road-blocks, everyone got to roadblocks. Which meant that if someone died there, or was bit there, so was everyone stupid enough to stay.

It was the reason it was so easy to catch travelers unaware. Because of the death-trap-vehicle-graveyards.

One which was right in front of them.

"Damn," Daryl said, as he stopped. His kick-stand followed and they soon dismounted. A glorious feeling for her inner thighs.

Glen only allowed herself a moment to enjoy the tightness that flowed away, before she glared at the huge pile-up of cars in front of her. It wasn't that big of a mound, seven cars deep, probably, but it was enough that it would stop them from moving for quite a while. Time they didn't have.

In a place nobody knew, too.

"Can we go around?" Dale asked, as he hopped out of the RV, and walked forward to put his hands on his hips, in true grandfatherly style, and stare over the graveyard of cars like it was a math problem.

"No," Glen said. "Incline to the side is too steep."

Glen glanced and then grimaced when she saw quite a few cars already tipped over there anyway. "And too many dumb-asses have tried it. It's blocked that way, too."

"Think we can move them?" Shane said, his voice hoarse. He and Rick both exited the car in front of them with Carl. Carol and Sophia following.

Rick just shook his head, with a sigh. "Gonna take a long while, is it worth it?"

He was scratching his beard and his eyes looked bloodshot and awful. Plus, he wasn't exactly on board with this whole trip.

He'd wanted to go to the CDC. They had all decided, in a random happenstance of true unanimous-voting, that no - that would be a waste of time. Let the government save the government. They would save themselves.

So, off to the road they had gone, passing the huge sign and dead bodies and all that jazz, only to be stopped here, on the side of the road.

They debated the finer points of moving that many cars for a few minutes. Took into account the noise, the amount of time it would take per car, the amount of people they had - and it formed into something like this: Scout and find the path of least resistance. Once that is found, move the cars. Once the cars are moved, stick around for just long enough to clear out the area of all useful supplies. It was a good plan. A solid plan. And they came up with it all before the others fully exited the RV.

Andrea and Amy and T-Dawg straggling.

"So push comes to shove, huh?" Dale said, with a smile. As if he was trying to make everyone relax, but the atmosphere was tense. Nobody was ready to agree to anything like that. They might give tight smiles, but they didn't want to let their guard down. Not after losing so many people.

Soon enough, everyone was out of the car and RV, looking around like lost puppies. Glen was always amazed these people had survived. With their heads up their asses as they were, it was a miracle.

T-Dawg, the sisters, Jaqui, and Carol and her kid were looking around the cars in front of them as if it was a school field trip. And the teacher had gone to the bathroom.

Their looks said one thing: Lost.

It dawned on Glen that they would continue standing like that until someone told them what to do. With the men having figured out everything, plus her, she knew it was now falling to her to get the rest of the peanut gallery to do what needed to be done.

 _Why me?_ Glen questioned, before answering herself. _Because you're the only one who can._

She sighed before straightening up.

"I'll get everyone to start scouting the cars." She muttered to nobody in particular as she turned heel and walked away from the 'men'. Daryl flashed her a quick glance, knowing she had the other idiots covered, and stood his ground as Dale started outline their own set of instructions.

"Best that she have something to do.." Shane said, just as she was out of earshot.

Glen refused to show how miffed she was by him saying that, though her fist did clench. Sexist jerk. Though, it was nice to hear him say it. Since Lori had died, he'd been all doom and gloom and half-glass full kind of guy. This rash of sexism was a relief. Not enough to stop her from taking out some of her anger on the group in front of her.

"Hey! You," She pointed to Andrea and Amy. Jacqui and Carol, with the kids were near them too. "Make yourselves useful. Check the cars. We'll need the supplies. The guys are going to try and find what's the best way through."

It seemed, though Glen's words were exactly what everyone needed to hear, someone had woken up on the _wrong_ side of the bed.

"Hey now, you listen -" Andrea started only to be stopped as Amy grabbed her biceps and pulled her.

Little Amy gave a glare that almost made Glen proud. "Stop it. She's right."

"Amy!" Andrea spluttered.

"What?" The younger sister sighed.

"How can you side with her?"Andrea demanded, cheeks flushed.

 _Well, looks as if someone was done with being cooped in a car with their sister._ Glen thought victoriously. Just as Andrea threw her another glare.

"How... how can you say that?"

Amy rolled her eyes. "Maybe cause I see the cars? And maybe, just **maybe** , because it doesn't look like the windows have been smashed in yet? _Andrea_ ," She said exasperatedly, pointing. " I can see a pack of oreos in the back of that Jeep."

Jacqui and Andrea both turned their heads sharply to see the bounty that awaited them. It was as if it had been their own idea, how fast they shot off to look through the cars. Looking first before opening car doors. Very smart of them. Amy only smiled apologetically before following, stopping at the jeep with the oreos and nabbing them for her own pack.

Glen decided she liked her, before she rolled her eyes dramatically, turning back to the kids and Carol.

The two kids were a liability no matter which way you spun it. The mothers hadn't let them leave their sight since the beginning and it showed. Carol was clasping Sophia to her, even as she was looking out at the sea of cars, trying to decide what to go for first. It was clear she wanted to be off helping, but was worried about Sophia. Rick, had just abandoned Carl, having been so used to Lori taking care of him.

A spark of an idea came to her.

"You guys," She pointed to the kids, "you're with me."

With a slow smirk that promised she wasn't about to ask Carol's permission, nor Ricks; she waved the kids to her.

"Go on." Carol said to Sophia, as the little girl looked behind her in trepidation. "I've got some things to do in the RV. I'll be fine."

 _Hmm, didn't even try to fight me on it._ Carol must have been a bad ways off. Then again, Rick barely even looked over at his kid as his newest task in life, being a provider, a caretaker, for all of them, was met. Meant that he was **needed**. She didn't blame him, after all.

She'd been there. She'd questioned.

She was better, and he wasn't. So she was going to be nice and allow him his time to gather pity points.

The kids needed something constructive to do, though. Glen remembered being a little shit and how she wished someone had just told her to suck it up and deal.

"What are we doing?" Carl asked, looking around as they headed into the forest, only a few feet. The highway was right next to them at all times. The kid was less animated than a pumpkin, but Glen wasn't about to say anything to him over it.

She had a plan, after all...

"Looking for things."

"Things?" Sophia asked, scrunching up her nose as she stepped in a mud puddle.

Glen almost laughed. Kid had seen enough death and gore, and was getting a little miffed at a mud puddle? It was kind of funny.

"Yeah, see —" It had only taken her a moment to find a backpack hidden away in the foliage. "Haha! Looky. People were kinda smart before they died. Here." She open the pack to show them a few granola bars, a notebook with a pencil stuck through the spine, and a water bottle. The water bottle she tossed, since it looked as if it was opened, but she gave the kids both a granola bar and Sophia the notebook.

"Whoa!" Sophia and Carl both said together. They both grabbed the prizes, relished them, before hiding them on their persons.

 _Like little survivors,_ Glen thought. _That's better._

"How'd you know that, Miss Glen?" Sophia asked as she parted a bush, looking within it. Her granola bar tucked into her jeans, under her shirt.

"When the roads got bad," Glen explained, looking into the lower branches of trees. "Some of them thought to take it to the forest. Never mind they never made it far, they at least _tried_ to move their things away from the obvious looting spots. But lots of noise attracts walkers, so they left a lot of things on the side of the road, rather than in their cars. Just in case. So they could come back for it."

"Huh, that's smart." Carl said with a pitiful smile. The first one Glen had seen in a while.

"Look!" Sophia whispered loudly. Like kids were taught to talk in libraries, and playgrounds, and with secrets.

Glen found herself smiling as they found another pile of loot. This time pans, hunting equipment, the like.

"Good job." Glen praised, looking it all over. Most of it was junk, or loud, or both. It wouldn't be useful, but the kids needed encouragement. "Not everything here can be used — see, like this?"

She grabbed the pans and set them aside. "Too loud, and we already have cooking utensils. We'll leave them for people worse off than us."

They kids nodded, caught up in the learning experience and forgetting, momentarily, that their lives depended on this knowledge.

Glen hefted the tarp that had been covering most of the items. "This is very useful. We can use this to make things. Clothing, armor, or even a covering for our heads in the rain."

"Cool." Carl said, as he grabbed it.

"What about this?" Sophia asked, grabbing one of the hidden blades in one of the pans.

"A knife!" Glen smiled, a true smile. "I didn't even see it."

She took it carefully as she ruffled Sophia's hair. Musing it up.

"Good job kid."

It was like a switch had been flipped after that. Sophia smiled, no longer so scared, and looked joyously around for other objects to show off. Carl, likewise, seemed less stoic, less prone to those quiet little looks he'd been giving everyone as he realized his mother wasn't around.

"Stay close." Glen whispered to them as they continued to look in a group. "But let's find some _treasure_."

They both smiled at her, before turning and walking as quietly and as fast as they could.

It was so normal, just like playing games, that Glen knew she was getting too comfortable. She could feel it in her bones. Her fatigue was present, as it always was, but this time, it wasn't as deep. She actually smiled a few more times, too, as the kids found some objects better left alone. Yet, they did find some useful things, too. Cans of food, more small knives, actual hunting knives still sheathed, clothing, socks, and the like. Glen watched and helped when needed, but mostly let the kids do what kids do best.

Glen felt... nice. It was actually easy to watch the kids. The activities and watching them made her feel... light.

_Was it the kids? Were they actually making me feel... lighter?_

Glen stopped her searching for just a moment to look the kids over. Both of them were hunched over a log, peering into it. Like good 'survivors', as they were learning from the world, they didn't want to stick their hands into a place that was too dark for them to see. So they prodded into it with sticks.

A warmth, much like the coldness that had seeped into her chest, filled her. It was like watching a game of her favorite soccer teams playing. Like being given a present. Glen didn't understand, nor did she necessarily want to.

With a smile she went back to looking around.

There was magic in the world again. It seemed. And it had found her through two children.

That was, of course, when the highway went silent.

* * *

"Glen took the kids to the side of the highway." Carol pointed out to Rick as everyone started to their assigned tasks. "She's got them looking for things taken from the cars."

The ex-sheriff stiffened as he pull up from a crouch. Blinking, he looked around for his kid, only to see the group of them, Glen, Carl, and Sophia just a little inside the woods. Glen crouched and smiling next to them as she gestured to a pile of crap.

 _How had he not even noticed?_ Carl hadn't said a thing to him.

Rick didn't have to say anything, but Carol's eyes on him made him feel worse about not realizing where his own kid was. Something he had never really had to think about before all this. Carl was always with his mother. Lori. A stinging sort of sensation in his chest reminded him how stupid he had been. How he had never really paid any mind to his own kid. To where his own kid was. Always just assuming that he would be around, waiting for him.

Waiting for him to grow the fuck up.

"Thanks."

Carol nodded before crouching next to him, looking through the stuff in one of the trucks.

"I know how you feel," She said, not even looking as Rick twisted his head to stare at her.

"They -" She pointed to everyone else around them. "The one's who've never had anyone. They don't get it."

Rick stayed silent, as if asking for her to continue, when all he wanted was for someone to stop her. To maybe hurt him, too. In retribution for Lori.

"I mean, maybe we're not the same. You don't look like the kind of man to hit his wife, but..." Rick could only blink, not even aware that he was in the presence of a woman who had been abused, had known it, and had let it happen. He felt doused in cold water, again, for the second time in his life. The shock of everything just settled on him.

She didn't stop though. Didn't blink at admitting her own failings.

"But once they're dead - you know you don't get another chance to make mistakes. Or any kind of memory. They don't get to forgive you. Or... or whatever they were gonna do."

She smiled sadly, just as he'd seen her do when he had watched her the other night at the fire. The look she had given her little girl.

"I'm sorry." He said, stupidly. But he didn't have any other words for her. None of the others would come.

At least, not without them coming out like word vomit.

Just then, a long whistle greeted them.

And Rick was rolling them underneath a car.

* * *

Glen didn't notice it immediately. She was a few seconds behind. Almost half a minute, but she had been listening and watching the highway carefully. Any sound from them was an alarm.

The same as no sound was.

_Of course things had been going_ _**too** _ _well._

Snapping her fingers together, knowing it was the softest sound she could make to get the kids attention; Glen shuffled over to them. When they heard the sound, they both whirled around. Carl's eyes brighter than they'd been all day and Sophia's as big as dinner plates. The noise had startled them in a way they hadn't been ready for. Especially as she had taken to talking with them, not simply guiding them wordlessly like she was doing now.

Pressing a single finger to her lips, Glen gathered the kids to her, like she'd seen both mothers and geese do, and walked slowly, softly through the forest behind a rather large fir tree. One that had branches that she could hoist the kids up to if need be. The kids followed wordlessly. Twin solid grips against her own arms signaling they were terrified. It reminded her of how she had seen cats and dogs gather their young. Without a word, but a bump of their noses and the herding was on.

"What's going on?" Sophia whispered. So soft that Glen was immediately proud of her.

Glen spoke in rough, short sentences.

"Silence. Highway. Might be Walkers."

The kids nodded, ashen faced as the seriousness of the whole equation landed on them.

As she watched the kids for a second, to see if they really understood; she heard it.

Walkers had that distinct groaning, moaning, flopping, strangling sound. Like dying fish. And their feet on the pavement made it worse.

Skrich-Skratch.

Plop.

 _Shit._ Gone was the very confident Glen who signaled adults what to do like someone straight out of Boot Camp. Gone was the self assurance that Glen had managed to foster within herself. All because of the children. Her hands trembled as she realized - these kids were her responsibility. Their lives were in her hands. Nobody had ever trusted her with kids lives. Not even goldfish. Not even a puppy.

Why had she been so sure of herself? Taking the children, whom she'd barely shared a few words with, into the woods where God-knows-what could be lurking. It was **madness**.

A snap reached her ears and she made a decision with the two kids pressed against her and the tree. Made it as Carl shut his eyes, as if the mentality of 'I can't see them, they can't see me' would work. Made it just as Sophia's nails dug into her arm.

They needed to be safe.

First. Foremost. _Forever_.

Because, what kind of person was she, if she let them down?

Not the kind of person Glen ever wanted to be, thats for sure.

With the same silent gestures, Glen mimed by taping on Sophias leg and then cupping her hands and moving it upwards: getting the kids into the tree. Glen didn't trust her voice. Didn't trust the silence or lack thereof. The moans - the groans - were getting closer.

Both of the kids, thankfully, were old enough to get that. They'd played charades enough times. They could understand.

Carl looked up, as if calculating something before nodding. He held up his leg, rested it against her own thigh. Volunteering himself first. Glen felt that little bit of warmth again. Like a flame that she desperately wished she had never felt. Cause it was making her feel weak again. Made her feel... tired. Exhausted but ready to run a marathon as well.

She hardly waited for Carl to tell her he was ready.

She cupped her hands, slipped it under his right foot, and made sure his hand was steady on her neck before pushing upwards. Sounds of jacket sliding against bark, feet crunching leaves, and a slight exhale greeted her like an exploding bomb. But Carl was up.

It took him a moment to find a branch, a big one that could hold him, and latch onto it. The crackling and crunching was like pop rocks. Loud, numerous, and annoying. As soon as his weight was completely gone from her hands, she reached to Sophia. The little girl weighed less than Carl, but it was clear she hadn't done this before. Biting her lip, worrying it, she looked at Glen like one looked at a frightening giant beast that was trying to sniff them. Glen immediately almost said something to comfort her. Then the girls eyes landed on her own and she realized, with that drop in her gut she was starting to loath, she hadn't been looking at her **that way** —

_Oh shit._

Glen didn't wait to look behind her. She didn't give anything a moments notice. As soon as it registered that Sophia was scared of something, and it wasn't her, she needed to get the kid out of there. So she hefted the little girl into her arms and turned quickly to see that there was a Walker behind her. A good five paces away. Head bent at an awkward angle, teeth bared.

She said only one thing as she clutched the child to her. One thing, loud enough for only them to hear her, but for the rest of the world to marvel at her clear-headed thinking.

"Carl, don't you **dare** come down 'til someone comes and gets you. Or else I'm gonna beat your ass."

Then she turned and ran.

* * *

The Walker came like that always did.

With loud breathing, scrapping feet on pavement, and a hoarse rumbling groan. Daryl was getting sick and tired of it. Especially as Rick and Shane, the dumb-asses they were, had a moment of genius and motioned for everyone to be silent, to hide, and to shut up.

Daryl wasn't sure which part of it he hated more. The waiting. The hiding like a little kid about to get whooped. Or even the tremors he felt rush through him as the sounds of the dead rose like a cacophony of **blegh**.

As he sat on the top of the RV, he decided, probably all of it.

It was a good thing they had kind of seen them coming. At least, he had. It had given him enough time to warn everyone. With a single long whistle, to catch their attention and then a motion against his throat to stop them. It had taken everyone on the ground a little bit to get situated in their chosen spots, but it had been almost amusing to watch it. Now everyone was in random places, hiding, hoping they would pass.

Everyone except Glen and the kids.

They were outside of earshot, though. They could hear their voices, but Darly knew that they didn't hear what was said. He also knew that Glen was extremely smart. She'd get the kids out of harm's way. That or die trying, if what he knew of her and red-heads had any kind of bearing on children.

He thought it did, at least. Glen was selfless like that.

It took a little bit for the Walkers to leave. Nobody was spotted from their hiding areas. He knew at least two people had dropped to the ground and rolled under cars, and that at least someone was in the RV, but anyone else he hadn't a clue.

They were all extremely lucky to be fine.

"Where are the kids?" Was the first question to greet him from none other than Andrea. She popped out of the RV as the coast was cleared by him. Five minutes after the Walkers had toddled their way off.

Since he was still higher up than anyone else, he could see why she would think he knew. But it didn't mean he did.

He let his silence speak for him as he looked to the woods.

"Yeah, where's Glen?" Amy asked, poking her head out of the window that was directly below him.

T-Dawg didn't even try to speak to him, just pushed open the gate to the RV and walked out, going to find everyone else. There was a moment where he showed concern for the children and Glen, but then quickly went to gather up the supplies he had dropped on the ground.

 _Fine by me, nigger._ Daryl thought cruelly, before jumping down onto the front of the RV and sliding the rest of the way to the pavement.

_Huh, where were the cowboys?_

" **Where's Carl?** "

 _There's the cowboys!_ Daryl observed with a faint tinge of amusement as everyone immediately turned to Rick. Then to Carol as she echoed the question, only for her little girl.

Her eyes were huge as he grasped her left bicep in her fist. She'd gone white as a sheet and was looking towards the woods as if somebody had stolen her children and run off.

Narrowing his eyes, looking into the forest, it took a moment for it all to sink in.

"Where are they?"

"Glen took them... she said.. she said -"

"It doesn't matter who took them - WHERE IS MY BABY?"

The clearing was in pandemonium, quiet hushed voices because even in panic they'd learned to keep themselves quiet.

"Damn it." Daryl swore, before he hiked up his bow and took to the woods.

"Where you off to?" Shane asked, running his hands through his short, cropped hair.

Daryl didn't answer, just resolutely walked.

_You better be fine Glen._

* * *

_Running with a kid should have been a workout option_ , Glen thought to herself as she panted farther into the forest. She had Sophia pressed tightly against her, mostly to make it easier on her to run. They had long since lost the Walker, but Glen had seen, heard, and **knew** that there were more around every corner. Call it instinct. Call it what you will.

Glen just knew what she knew.

They had also lost the highway. Glen was sure, given enough time, they could find it again; wasn't sure if the camp would wait for her. That was, until she remembered she had a child with her.

Sophia had a mother.

Mother's wouldn't let their daughters go missing without knowing if there was a body. They just didn't.

That and Daryl. He wouldn't stop looking until he had a body either. For either of them.

"Miss Glen? Are we... are we safe?" The child shivered in her arms. Her head had been pressed deep into her neck, and it was now aching, but Glen patted her hair down.

Glen blinked before realizing she had stopped running.

_Damn it._

It took a minute, then another, before Glen declared the immediate area safe. She didn't hear anything suspicious, which didn't mean jack-shit, but her arms were getting exhausted. Holding Sophia for the next few hours wasn't an option.

"I'm gonna put you down now, okay?" Sophia nodded and easily allowed herself to be slide down to stand on her own two feet.

They both took a moment to catch their breath.

"Miss... Glen?" Sophia asked as she clutched Glen's side. Her eyes flickering around the forest.

"Yeah Sophia?" Glen asked, finally allowing herself a moment to check herself over. There had been a moment a while back where her shirt had gotten grabbed. But there was nothing there to suggest a bite.

"Where are we?"

Glen looking around, trying to think of an answer. Trying to use all of the gifted talents of the Dixon brothers, she listened, smelled, and glanced for any kind of clue. When none was forthcoming, Glen had to acknowledge that running away from the highway might have been a bad idea. The only thing she could have done, sure, but stupid as all get out.

"I don't know."

* * *

_Yes, this chapter was posted fast. Yes. That is the truth. Don't get used to it. I have plans and stuff written out but my desire to write could literally shrivel up and die without any rhyme or reason. I will wait until next week to post the next chapter and by that time, the votes will be all tallied up. I have the next chapter mostly written though, just have to adjust for... well, sexitimes._

_Thanks for reading though! I really appreciate it!_


	12. A Doe in a Clearing: A Bullet

Option C won by one point. At least at the point I stopped couting. :) So Option C it is.

Welp. This is gonna be a bumpy ride. For everyone involved. Also, like, everything's just gonna go weird after this chapter. Like. Even I don't know what's quite going to happen. I kind of have like an outline but let's be honest - outline smoutline!

Hmmm, what else, to try and give you a heads up with?

Well, Rick and Shane are VASTLY different in this story (for obvious reason, Lori's dead yall. Like. Dead dead.), I literally forgot about Jacqui because well, even in the first half of the first season nobody paid attention to her anyway, Amy and Andrea are ALSO vastly different - go figure? Dale is Dale. He is as unchanging as the stars.

Also, you all may remember Daryl as something of a talker in the series during this jaunt of time and well - remember that he had lost HIS ONLY family and was also searching for Sophia. He was having _sooooo_ much interaction with the group.

In this story, he's really only been focused on helping Glen. On finding Glen.

So, just remember, basically all the characters are different.

And take everything with a grain of salt!

* * *

_**A Doe in a Clearing: A Bullet** _

* * *

Daryl found Carl without too much fuss.

Even being up high in a tree, way out of his eyesight; finding him was pretty easy. Easiest prey in a _long_ while.

Tracking was an art. Daryl didn't consider himself an artist, but he sure found it pretty to look at. And footprints were some of the easiest and most complex art to find. The footprints had stopped under the tree, wore a circle, and then disappeared into only one set of footprints. Since there was no blood, no guts, and nobody; Daryl had looked up. It was only logical. Humans _could_ climb, after all.

Carl wouldn't say why he hadn't called out. Why he had stayed perfectly still. Perhaps being scared. Maybe he just didn't trust Daryl.

But when Daryl did make eye contact, Carl melted.

He'd barely gotten out, "Glen and Sophia ran that way", pointed a shaky finger in the direction of the footprints, before a gross sob exited his throat. Rick was behind Daryl and quickly reached upwards for his son.

"Oh _Carl_ -"

When Rick had gotten there, right on his heels; Daryl didn't know. The hunter was just glad he was, because he was not ready to handle children who were emotionally troubled. Especially a 'children' that was not his. Nor a child that had just lost their only other parent figure.

Protect them, he could do. _Actually talk to them? Reassure them?_

That was Glen's lot in life. That was Rick's job. Maybe even Shanes.

Not his.

With a grunt, not feeling words coming to him, Daryl started off to where Carl had pointed.

If Glen had run, then she had **run**. Glen wasn't known, to him or to any of the other campers lucky enough to go on a scouting with her, to slow down without good reason to. And especially in a place she didn't know. She would have run until her legs gave out or she found someplace safe.

And if Sophia was with her...

 _Shit_. _No place would be safe enough._ Daryl thought, bowing his head as he studied the tracks in front of him. He'd almost forgotten about the kid, with there being little evidence of her even **being there**. There was only one set of footprints. They were sizably deep, too. Since Glen wasn't that heavy she must have been carrying the kid.

A sigh of relief stuck Daryl then. He didn't let it show.

Or at least he didn't think he did.

"What are you looking at?" Carol asked, behind him, almost making him jump. Had he not heard her, he might have.

"Glen went this way." Daryl said, jerking his chin.

"And? Sophia?"

Daryl turned to look at her, to size her up, when he noticed her red eyes. On the verge of tears.

There was just something about a woman about to cry or crying that set Daryl on edge. Like it wasn't right.

"Far as I can tell, Glen grabbed her and ran..."

Daryl didn't say any more, but Carol's shoulders seemed to relax.

"Glen's got her?" She asked, a note of relief in her very body.

He nodded.

"Thank God." Carol said as she slide against a tree.

Daryl didn't know why she was so relieved.

They hadn't found either of them yet. And the world wasn't a nice place.

* * *

"Miss Glen?"

"Yes, Sophia?"

"Do you think they know what they're doing? The Walkers?"

Glen paused in her walking to turn to Sophia, who was staring away from her. _Where had that kind of question come from?_

"... No. Why do you ask?" Glen asked, honestly confused.

Sophia was quick to answer. "No reason... I just... It's nothing."

It was clear she didn't want to make Glen answer. Didn't want to stir the pot. Glen immediately knew where that behavior came from.

She came from a Korean family, even a few generations removed from the continent. She **knew** what being obedient and quiet was like. Quiet as a mouse. Perhaps even quieter. Good grades, good posture, good at being silent. It had been her life.

"No. It's alright. Talk."

Glen made sure the words were soft, even as she glared around the clearing. Daring any Walker to try and get in between them at this moment.

"You can talk to me. I won't get mad... I -" She remembered so many promises from her own mother not to get mad. She was resolute. "I promise."

Sophia looked up into her eyes for a good long moment. Judging for herself if Glen was being honest. Glen tried to look disarmed. Nice. But she wasn't sure if she was pulling it off. That was until Sophia spoke.

"It's just I think they aren't as bad as everyone's always painting them as. You know." Glen nodded, even if she didn't exactly know. She wasn't about to stifle the child. "They're dead and stupid and we're smarter. I kind of... I kind of feel **bad** for them."

So it was a matter of morality and humanity. Glen could get that. She still had trouble deciphering inside herself if she could do things. If she knew things. If good and bad were relative to her, or the world.

"Sweetie, don't feel bad for the dead. Feel bad for the living."

Sophia looked absolutely flabbergasted.

"But we've got our **brains** , and our futures ahead of us. They're dead - they just have nothing. They'll be nothing but flesh and bones and maybe not even that..."

Glen nodded, but turned to continue walking.

"It doesn't matter." She said it dismissively, thinking the talk was over.

"Well, why?"

"Because even though we're alive, it doesn't mean we're safe. It doesn't mean anything. We've got the world to consider and the dead don't have any kind of obligation, like we do. Sure, it may be best to pity the dead's families, but the dead don't deserve anything like that. They aren't human anymore."

Sophia was quiet for a good long while, and Glen wondered if she had been too much for the kid.

"Oh. Okay."

The girl looked fine with that statement, but Glen could feel something was wrong. She didn't know what it was, but Glen would be damned if she left the girl feeling alone and miserable.

"I'm sorry, Sophia. I really am."

The little girl whispered, so low Glen had to strain to hear it, "So am I."

* * *

"Doesn't talk much, does he?" Rick asked as they all followed Daryl and Carol who were both leading the pack.

Well, almost all of them. Andrea and Amy had stayed behind, to protect the supplies they'd gathered into the RV. With Dale.

It was just T-Dog, Shane, Rick, and Carl, who was still shaken by the events of the afternoon.

"First day he came into camp, with that no-good, redneck brother of his and Glen... most words he'd ever spoke." Shane responded, keeping his distance from the hunter as he resolutely stayed on track. "And all he said was that he was good at catching food, good at catching deer with a crossbow or anything really. Then he proved it, and we never really had any reason to talk to him about anything else. Glen did most of the talking for them."

"Glen said he just doesn't have a lot to say." Carl piped up, holding Rick's hand a little tighter as he hopped over a log. "Well, at least, since Merle was left on the rooftop."

Shane raised an eyebrow.

Rick was the one to question him, though. "What else did she say about him?"

Carl still was pretty jittery, so he talked while looking around him.

"Said he was loyal," Rick nodded to that. "Doesn't like noise. Good teacher... uhm. I don't really remember a lot. We were finding stuff. She was just talking to pass the time."

Shane and Rick shared a look. _Teacher?_

"Still wish he would talk more." Shane said.

"I don't." T-Dog responded with.

"Yeah, well you left his crackhead brother handcuffed to a rooftop," The black man stiffened at Shanes words. "You don't exactly get a lot of points where him and his are concerned."

"I told ya!" T-Dog said, growling. "I tried to help him, but the key! Man, the key slipped right outta my hands and dropped down the drain pipe. We didn't have any more time... I had to do something to at least save my own skin."

Neither of the ex-officers were impressed with his show of empathy. Rick and Shane, perhaps before Lori's death, would have been a little more sympathetic.

But Lori was gone.

Bitten.

Killed.

There was still a hole there, ragged at the edges of their hearts, worn and frayed. It would stay for a long while. Till they could, maybe one day, forget just how bad it had been.

So for once, Shane was on Daryl's side. He could see himself in Daryl's position.

 _Had T-Dog gotten Lori killed..._ Shane shivered and fisted his hands into his pockets.

Well, the man wouldn't have been around anymore, that was for sure.

Shane didn't have a Glen to hold him back. He had a Carl. He had a Rick. But he didn't have the kind of selflessness that Glen showed. The kind of moxie to throw himself into another family. Even if the family in question was already basically his. Best friend, kid.

Rick was much the same, except he wasn't nearly as raw as everyone else was. He had only been conscious a week, at most. He couldn't fathom the timelessness between the deaths. He couldn't. So, he tried to forgive T-Dog. Tried to be that man he was, all those weeks ago, before the world ended.

Failed, but at least he had **tried** where Shane had not.

"Whatever." Shane said, finally before walking faster to catch up to the hunter and the mother, who were now booking it.

* * *

"Where do they all come from?" Carol asked as Daryl stake'd the next Walker in front of them.

"Hell, probably." Shane said as he panted, pulling his knife out of the skull of one of the dead. "Doesn't look like these fucker's were here before we got here, though."

" _Hemp_ , heh, care to prove that?"

Daryl grunted, kicked the dead down. "Came from Atlanta."

Everyone turned from their assigned dead person to look at Daryl. It had only been a few minutes since they'd started searching. Maybe ten, twenty. They'd come across the group of maybe six, seven dead people and had taken them down without any words shared.

"You really think so?"

Daryl didn't care to comment further than, "Know so," as he leaned down, rummaging through a pocket. Finding nothing he resumed tracking.

He was already close to the ground, searching for the footprints in the wet, bloodied soil. Nobody wanted to interrupt him and his tracking, but they all wanted to know how he knew that these particular Groaners were from Atlanta.

As if sensing it, and actually feeling unanimously generous, he answered. "Remember'd his shirt. This ones face. Ugly over here has the same shoes. Same pack. Don't take a genuis."

T-Dog and Rick, who had both seen the same crowd of dead - the same blank, nameless bodies - couldn't say the same. Even as the rest of the group turned to look at them, flabbergasted by the man in front of them. They could only shake their heads, follow as the man picked up the scent again, and wonder how the hell their lives had turned into this.

Most were thinking that, except one.

Shane was thinking:

_Who was Daryl Dixon? And how the hell could they become more like him?_

He was also not the **only** one thinking along those lines, though. Perhaps the only one thinking them so definitely.

* * *

"So are all mushrooms bad?" Sophia asked as she rolled one of the little ones between her fingers.

Glen laughed. "Not all mushrooms. Just... a lot of them. You can never be sure which one's are good or bad, so until you know for absolute positive - don't eat them."

Sophia smiled up at her. "Got it... but are these one's bad?"

Glen was about to answer, but then they heard a gunshot.

Just one lone little explosion. Small. Loud. Impossibly loud.

"Shit."

* * *

It was the first time Carl could remember thinking to himself: _I want to be like Daryl Dixon when I'm older._

Instead of the usual: I _want to be like Dad._

It had started to be a question he had asked when Daryl had walked into camp. Self assured. A swagger to his walk. It had continued from there. Day after day watching him bring back birds, rabbits, and once a whole deer - something had clicked in Carl.

Daryl would survive. It didn't matter if they were there or not.

Because he would be there.

_I want to be like Daryl Dixon when I grow up. Cold. Strong. Not_ _**ever** _ _sad._

If Rick could have heard the inner thoughts. The inner turmoil those words caused. He would not have been thinking as Shane was. Of how great Daryl was.

No. He would have been mourning for his child's innocence. As Lori would have been. He would have been thinking about how he could protect Carl, without keeping him out of the world at large. He would have honored Lori's wishes, to a certain extent. Taught him what was needed but never to endanger him.

But as they came upon a clearing, gazed at a deer standing so still, it was almost like a painting, Rick would realize all on his own:

His child would be growing up too fast. Way too fast.

It was just the world now. It expected a certain level of knowledge. A certain level of skill. Children didn't survive to tell any stories anymore. It was the adults job to shape them into something... more.

"Go on," Rick would remember himself saying to Carl who leveled the gun handed to him. "Don't bother with the gun."

And he would remember the look on Carl's face, a smile lighting it up, as Carl walked forward, gun placed in the waistband of his jeans, closing in on the deer. A hand outstretched. A smile, small as it was. The deer, a doe, staring at him with those big eyes of its.

Rick though, for a long moment, that the world wasn't that bad. There were still these moments. There was still Carl.

_**-Crack-** _

And he would remember nothing happier after that. Not for a long time.

* * *

Glen was trapped in between indecision and action.

On one hand, Sophia was grabbing her and looking terrified towards where the shot had came from, mushrooms scattered around them. On the other hand, there was shouting, a great big commotion, coming from where the shot had to have been let off.

And on the very, very other hand, she knew that that was the area she had come from. Those could be **her** people. The shouting, the pandemonium - it could be Daryl, Rick... Carl.

"Miss Glen?" Sophia asked, her voice that same little whisper it had been the past few minutes. Just as Glen had asked her to speak.

"I know, Sophia." Glen said, taking a deep breath before, turning to her.

"You think you can walk from here?"

The little girl thought it over, as if it was a big decision, before nodding. Her face was dirty, the tear tracks clearing away a neat little path on her cheeks, but she looked innocently resolute.

 _Strong_. Glen would later remember.

"We're going to go check out the noise," Glen said, taking her first baby step towards the yelling, the sound of shouting. She flinched for every single moment of it. "But... if things get bad, we run — Okay?"

"Yes."

"If I tell you to run, you run okay? And don't stop running until all you can hear is... is your heart beat... alright?"

"Yes."

"And if you don't think you can do it, we can get you up a tree, okay?" Another nod.

Glen felt that same feeling of warm in her chest. It filled her up with a strange little emotion she hadn't felt in a while.

 _Pride_. She decided that was what it was. Pride that the little girl no more than ten, was being so strong. So very adultish. It broke her heart a little too, into little pieces, that such a young face could understand the horrors of the world.

"You don't have to be a big girl for this. I'll understand."

Sophia looked scandalized that Glen would think so little of her. "I... I can do this."

Chin titled defiantly, Sophia countered the move by grasping Glen's left hand harder.

"If it gets too bad, though, Miss Glen. I'll... I'll climb a tree. Promise."

_A survivor. That's what this little girl was._

Glen smiled, squeezed the little hand that was in her own, and started forward.

It would do. A promise like that, was better than any kind she had gotten from the girls mother or Carl's father.

As she walked towards the commotion that was slowly waning, she couldn't help but pray:

_Please be Daryl. Please. Please._ _**Please** _ _._

She was also petrified and terrified that it was.

That it had been Daryl who had been shot or done the shooting.

Daryl had watched it go down with that out of body feeling he'd come to appreciate. Had felt that kind of cool calm he was used to hunting with fall on him like a blanket. Coldly logical was how he felt as he watched everyone else lose their shit.

"CARL!" Rick screamed, running over to the collapsed boy. He slid to a stop next to the kid, hands shaking, as he reached forward and pulled his kid to his chest. Blood was blossoming rapidly on his white shirt. Carl was paling.

A man came running from the forest, from the opposite side of them, and slid to a stop yards before them. It was almost a surprise he could run that fast. What with how his chunky self was already red-faced, though it was hard to tell if that was from the shock or not. His mouth was hanging open as he looked between them all frantically. In his hands, was a rifle.

It was clear, what had happened, in moments.

The man, Daryl, and the rest of the survivors who were in shock; just kind of stared for a minute.

Then things went to shit.

Glen came on the scene of the crime, with Sophia behind her at arms length, slowly. The rackus everyone was causing made it impossibly easy to sneak up on them. Even Daryl didn't look at her.

"How could you?"

"Just a kid!"

"I'm - I'm so sorry! I didn't see him - We, we have a doctor! We need to get him to him!"

 _What had happened?_ Glen wondered, a feeling not unlike sinking in mud strangling her throat.

Someone had been hurt. And by the sounds of the voices, it was one of their own.

She gulped as she pushed Sophia farther behind her.

She hadn't been gone more than an hour. Tops.

 _Why did everything go to hell when she was gone?_ Glen asked herself, with a tired put upon sigh.

Even knowing the voices to be somewhat familiar, Glen wasn't risking it. Wasn't risking Sophia.

"Just stay right here, okay?" Glen whispered, pushing Sophia behind a tree. "Stay."

Not turning to make sure she did, Glen crept over to the clearing. The girl had been beyond obedient. She would stay. If not for her own life, then to make Glen happy, surely.

The scene Glen came to wasn't one she thought she would ever come across. At least, not for Carl. Never him.

Rick was on the ground, staunching a wound on Carl's side. The blood his kid had lost, stained his shirt. Everyone else was in the face of another man. A trucker looking man, really. Who was pale, against a tree, and stuttering apologies. He looked as if he could have fought half of them off, but was in shock as much as everyone else.

Shane and T-Dawg were in his face. Unrelenting.

"We've got a doctor." The man said, trying to get a word in edgewise. "He can look at the wound. I swear. **I swear it**."

Carol was behind Daryl, white as a sheet. One hand was clenched in Daryl's jacket flap. She wasn't staring at any of the people, though, but at the blood on the ground. At the doe in the center.

At Carl.

And Daryl was the first and last person Glen's eyes caught. Daryl was standing by the side, crossbow ready, as if waiting to defend them all. From anything. His eyes hadn't left from switching between Rick and the kid to the man against the tree and the riot against him.

Glen felt herself soften.

 _That's my Daryl. Stay out of the big fight, so you can win the war._ Glen thought fondly. _Bastard._

That was the last soft thought she had, as she steeled herself for chaos.

"What the hell happened this time?" Glen asked as she came around the tree she had been ducked behind.

"GLEN!" Chorused in front of her. They all badgered her eardrums with questions, with shouts, with exclamations.

She only had eyes for Carl, in the center of it all.

It was weirdly easy to breath once, and walk quickly. Forward momentum taking her to Rick's side, where she kneeled. Rick was clearly not a medic as he placed his bloody hands everywhere. Carls face, shoulders, the wound.

He was panicking. He, out of all of them, should know what panic does to people.

 _Hopeless._ Glen took her jacket off, aware she would have to find another one, before pushing it against the wound hard. There was no response from Carl. She tried to modulate her voice to seem cool, collected, but then she saw Carl. Saw his face. Eyes shut, impossibly pale. Worse than any kind of sick person she'd seen — and she'd seen a lot — Glen couldn't hold it. Couldn't help it.

"Push here, hard. Keep the pressure." Rick's wide, frantic eyes came to her own as she shoved his hands against the wound.

_What a day to go wonky Rick, what a day to go stupid,_

"You know this Rick. You were a fucking sheriff. You've had training. Get your _shit_ together."

He seemed uncomprehending.

Glen only took her hands off of Carl for a second, and it was to slap Rick straight across his face, making his whole head whip to the side. There was no anger inside her. Just a cold, cool effortless indifference. Panic lingering in the back of her mind. Then she fisted a hand into his shirt, pulling him close to whisper:

" **Carl needs you. Get. Your. Shit.** _ **Together**_ **.** "

That seemed to snap him into action. Even as Glen was rearing back ready to slap him, again.

_How had nobody else done this?_

Knowing the kid was bleeding out, she quickly spun to everyone else.

Glen didn't panic. Some part of her wondered if that was a good thing, a bad thing... _was she weird for doing something other than panicking? Was it just another way of coping? Freak out later. Check._ She pushed that away. Looking at the man who had shot Carl, she could tell he seemed all torn up. Had a concsiousness. **That** , _that_ she could work with. Shane and T-Dawg had him up against a tree, but it was clear he had tears down his face.

Now was not the time for slow approaches.

"Sophia's fine." Glen told Carol as she turned to the forest, yelling for the girl to leave her hiding place. The girl was obedient and came darting out of the forest into her mother's arms.

"MOM!"

"See?" She said as Carol collapsed against her kid.

"Told you they'd be fine with me..."

Realizing that Carl was still in immediate danger, Glen cut her own chit-chat aside. She turned to the boys. The men.

"Shane. T-dawg. Let 'em go."

Nobody moved.

This would get nothing done. She forced her face into the meanest frown she could as she rounded on all of them. Seeing them just stare at her, she growled. " _Did I fucking stutter?"_

"But - _"_

" _ **Now**_."

Shane immediately let go of the front of the man's shirt. T-Dawg was a little slower, but when he did back up - he straight up step backwards at least four times as much as Shane. Lowering his eyes to the side, even as he breathed hard.

 _Smart man._ Glen thought.

"You said you got a doctor?" She said, trying to be calm about it, as she aimed it at the man. Trying not to shout, because she had a feeling he would shit his pants if another person, even someone of her stature, yelled at him.

"Y-Yes."

"Then let's go. Which way?"

The man pointed.

"Up and at 'em everyone."

They moved in the direction of the pointed finger. Slowly.

Glen growled at that. "Let's **go** ,people!"

Everyone was quick to rush to Rick.

"Do you need help carrying him?" Shane asked Rick, as the ex-sheriff frantically pulled Carl against himself. Got him into a reasonably comfortable position to run with him.

"I got him." Rick whispered, his voice hoarse. "I got you, Carl."

And Glen knew he didn't have him, but what to say to that? What to say to a proud man who knew only to be stubborn? Who only had his son left?

Perhaps it was best this way. Perhaps one day that stubbornness would save them all. Perhaps.

So Glen said nothing, but kept next to him. Like stink on a skunk. Like tape on another piece of tape.

Daryl took up the rear, watching Glen the entire time.

As he always did.

* * *

Hey guys, so I thought I would give you a little excerpt from the next chapter. Don't expect it any time soon, cause I am still working out some character kinks, but here is a sneak peak!

DA PEAK:

* * *

_"You think we'll get through this?" Glen asked, as she rolled over, facing Daryl._

_It had been a while since they'd slept so close. In the tent, they were at least an arms length away. In the RV she had taken a bunk and he had taken the other when he had actually wanted to sleep. Now, they were very close. Practically in each other's arms. There was only two beds after all._

_And she wasn't about to share with Shane._

_"We always get through everything." Daryl said in answer._

* * *

So. Yeah. Can't believe I am actually saying this, but that quote is a tad out of context. :P


	13. For the Child

Been having a touch of computer trouble. Internet shuts off like every hour, computer holds like a 30-min charge. All around, my computer needs to be replaced... but that's just a whole 'nother issue. Anyone know the best computers for design work that is NOT A MAC? (I may want the best, but I will be in the cold ground, **dead** , before I own a mac .)

Anyway. So that's why this is a bit late. That and I just kind of forgot for a few weeks. It's crazy in my house. 10 people. Three children. Would NOT recommend. So I am surprised I remembered _my own_ name. Let alone that I forget to update this story.

I know you guys have been waitin for the newest chapter especially cause of my... tid-bit I left for you guys. Welllll, you're getting the whole story now!

This chapter is lots of canon events with not so canon... _stuff_.

Anywhoos.

Thanks for the reviews and the good vibes :) Appreciate them.

ONWARDS.

* * *

**_For the Child_ **

* * *

Rick ran as if every ghost in his life was chasing him, every Walker for a five mile radius had found him, and the world had ended. Again. He ran ahead with Carl alongside Shane, the man who had shot the kid, and T-Dawg. Glen stuck behind with Daryl, Carol, and Sophia. The mother refusing to let go of her daughter and therefore moving much slower than before. The pace was still respectable, perhaps for a turtle.

 _Which, fine,_ Glen could deal. _But hurry up, huh?_

They were in a field now, so it was clear to see the point where they were running to. A barn. On the horizon that was surrounded by a sizeable fence. A house, next to it all. A quaint little place.

With... _cows?_

Glen was almost shocked to note the animals seemed completely at ease. Staring at her, ears flickering, lazily. As if the world wasn't in chaos around it. In fact, she and the cow had a momentary staredown, where the cow chewed its cud and Glen tried not to allow her mouth to drop open. Instead, she worked her jaw and tried not to grind her teeth.

_How could animals be this stupid? How?_

"Been a while since I've seen any of 'em." Daryl said. "Nothing but deer, rabbits, and squirrels since... Well since."

"What'd'ya think it means?" Glen asked, finally breaking eye contact with the cow. Daryl stared down the barn in the distance, watching Rick's disappearing form.

Glen felt her stomach drop as she hoped, desperately, for Carl to pull through.

"I think it means we got some people who managed to stay hidden through the shitstorm."

Glen nodded, but was surprised as Daryl looked over at her and then stated:

"But how?"

"And why." Glen startled and turned to see Carol, who had come upon them both as they stared at the cow. Sophia relaxed enough to let go of her mother's hand.

"Questions of the hour." Glen muttered before starting into the tall grass.

"Go in guns ablazing?" Daryl asked.

"They're farmers." Glen said, rolling her eyes. "One's a doctor, the others are harmless. What harm could they do to us?"

"Famous last words." Daryl muttered but didn't go in crossbow blazing.

Well, at least, not to the untrained eye he didn't.

* * *

The man who had shot Carl, through the deer, was named Otis; Glen had learned. He was a large, fluffy man who reminded Glen more of a panicked Pillsbury Doughboy than some murderer wannabe badass. And it was strange, because she had always associated that name with a little pug-dog. Now she would associate it with deer and blood. With trauma. The man, thankfully, ran as fast as he could, panting the entire way. He didn't slow down, he didn't hesitate and he didn't even try to talk. He just ran. That was the good news.

The bad news, was he was absolute shit at it.

He was huffing and puffing before they even got halfway and Daryl, Glen, and the others found him struggling with Shane pushing him along. Rick way ahead, Carl lifeless in his arms as he jogged. It wasn't till they all got closer, Rick only yards away that they heard someone yelling:

"DAD!"

Glen took a moment to think, _Carls awake?..._ before it dawned on her that the man they must be going to see had a daughter. And the daughter had seen them.

Then a whole gaggle of people exited the building just as Rick almost made it to the house. Five or so, it was hard to tell at the distance they were at. They exchanged words, Rick never slowing down, before everyone rushed back inside, Rick following. The commotion of it all lasted seconds.

It was quiet outside. As quiet as it had been before the whole mess had begun. The house cutting off the noise.

It was like nothing had ever happened, Glen thought as she and Daryl caught up with Shane who was kicking Otis into action. And it was as they were coming closer that Rick walked out of the building, dazed. Smearing himself with blood.

"Is he alive?" Shane asked, Otis raggedy gasping next to him.

Rick couldn't speak. Shane tried to help him clean up, but Rick could only stare at his blood drenched hands.

Glen and Daryl stayed back, watching. Knowing that even if they could have done anything, they would have, but this was out of their league. They were a scouter and a hunter respectively.

Ain't neither of them ever been a doctor.

Neither of them was gonna start now.

Glen sat on the lazyboy, Daryl perched on the arm. Sophia and Carol were taking up the love seat. Shane and Rick were sitting on the long couch, staring out at nothing. None of them wanted to leave, at least, not until a decision was made. Not until the doctor came out and told them what was happening with one of their youngest group members.

It hadn't been long, Glen didn't think, but time just stretched and stretched.

"Daddy knows what he's doing,"

Everyone looked to the door. There was a young woman standing there. She was lean, petite, with dirty blond hair, arms crossed self consciously. Much prettier than the other woman they had seen, but they shared a faint resemblance with each other. Then again, everyone seemed to share a resemblance.

Excluding the big guy who had shot carl. He looked like a overweight bear.

"He's ever done an operation like this before?" Glen asked, the others still too dazed to coherently have a conversation with the girl.

"Sure, not the exact same, but similiar." The girl tried to smile, but it came out shallow and uneasy.

"What's your name, miss?" Shane asked, patting Rick on his back. Rubbing circles into his shoulder, where Rick still had his head in his hands.

Glen thought it was only _slightly_ strange how Shane had taken the place of Lori, much as Rick had.

"Beth." She said, as if relieved to talk about herself, "Herschel's my dad. Maggie's my sister. Patricia's the one helping your boy out. She's married to Otis. Uhm, and you all know... Otis... And then, well, there's Jimmy but he's out sleeping."

Nobody nodded to that, just stared. Their eyes making their ways over to Rick.

He hadn't moved. His chest rose and fell but there was a stuttering now.

He was crying.

* * *

Shane felt... broken.

It wasn't like shattered pieces of a mirror, or a broken bone, or a smashed pumpkin - it was a lot more whole than that. It was just one piece of him that ached. His chest. He didn't dare show his own pain though, as Rick was still emotionally unprepared for everything that had happened.

Hell. The man had been awake for less than a week. He'd not seen half the shit Shane had seen. Experienced a teaspoon compared to the gallons and gallons of shit Shane had dealt with.

Yet, they both were experienced in the loss of the two most important people to them.

Same time. Same amount of suffering.

_Lori._

Shane took in a ragged breath that only Glen and Daryl noticed. Carol had Sophia asleep against her breast after all, and she was humming to herself, to comfort her child and herself at the same time. The asian and the redneck simply gave him a pointed look, as if to ask if he was alright, before turning back to staring at the wall. Contemplating. As Glen always did.

 _Carl._ The kid didn't deserve any of this as much, if not more so, than Lori had. And hell, it had been even more of an accident than Lori had been. Yet, it had happened.

And it was slowly tearing him apart.

 _God,_ Shane thought, _If you could just give me this one thing - just this one thing. I'll do everything in my power to protect these two. To protect Rick. To protect Carl. Just, give Carl back to us._

Rick took that moment to come back to the world. To breath a deep shuddering breath, before taking his head out of his hands.

"I let him go into that clearing." Rick said, his voice hoarse. "I let him - "

"Don't do that to yourself Rick." Shane said, his hand never leaving his shoulder.

"It's my fault."

"Ain't nobody's fault but this worlds." Shane said, hoisting Rick closer, into his embrace. Rick didn't even fight it. "Ain't your fault Rick."

Glen and Daryl took that moment to leave. Give them privacy. Carol had had an eventful day as well, and she had mostly nodded off on the couch, ready at any moment to awaken. Everything was quiet. So Shane held Rick, trying to do everything in his power to do something in the situation.

And if comforting Rick, was it, then so be it.

So be it.

* * *

"He's stable but... I don't know for how long." The old man, Hershel, said. Everyone looked at him rather coldly. Their whole group was exhausted, bone-tired, and wishing they had just stayed in the RV. None of this would have happened if they had just stayed in the RV.

Or maybe it would have been worse.

Glen didn't know, but she didn't care to know either.

Almost a half an hour ago, Glen and Daryl both had walked into the house. The living room was where they were crowded into and told to wait. That they couldn't be crowding the operating room, after all. So they had been told to wait and wait they had. Rick was right in the middle, arguing about nonsensical stuff. Saying nonsensical stuff.

Glen had only snuck a peak into the room once before being shooed away. In the middle of the giant bed had been little Carl, looking lifeless. Pale, lips blue, barely moving. It was a sad and pathetic sight. Like mold and rot on a sandwich you'd been dying to eat.

Without being able to say anything to anyone about anything; She'd been kicked out.

Rick had been needed almost five minutes into the ordeal. Blood letting and all that fun life-saving stuff. It had taken almost twenty minutes, what felt like hours, until the old man had allowed them to see the kid. To allow them into the room, same as everyone else. To push through everyone else to look him over. To see him alive.

A sigh of relief had built through the group and then Hershel had ruined it.

"Bellies distended. Pressure dropping. Means there's internal bleeding," Hershel went on to say. "Five bullet fragments left. Only got one of them." He said more things. Some complicated. Others not so much.

What Glen took away was this:

"Too many bullet fragments got all jumbled up in his system. I'm going to have to operate."

Rick just nodded along dumbly. Everyone was more dumb than smart at the moment.

"But I can't have him responding like he did... _before_." Hershel gave a meaningful look at the boy. Everyone remembered when he had woken up those precious seconds to tear open the wound farther. "I have to put him under. To do that, we're going to need supplies."

Rick was in no position to be asking anything coherently, so Shane took over. "What kind of supplies?"

"He's not going to be able to breath on his own. For one thing." Hershel said, wiping his hands off. "So we need a respirator. Drapes, surgical supplies, extra of _everything_."

 _Fuck_. Glen acknowledged, same as everyone else. _Where would we get that?_

It had always seemed like the medical crap was the first stuff gone, no matter if anyone needed it or not. Widespread panic, meant _panic spread much farther than anyone knew_. Glen hadn't seen hide nor hair of a hospital _**not**_ crawling with Walkers since... since forever.

And one that hadn't been bombed to some degree? Good luck.

"Are there any hospitals around here? Stores?" Carol asked, piping up from the back of the room.

The group from the house just shook their heads. Maggie answered. "The hospital went up in flames weeks ago. Most stores wouldn't have any of the supplies we would need."

Glen contemplated, same as everyone else, before she got an idea. "Can we make our own?"

Everyone but Daryl looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

"What?" The asian girl asked irritably.

"How on earth would we do that?" Maggie asked.

"Now, Maggie. Let's not -" Glen interrupted Otis.

"It's called Jerry-rigging for a reason." Glen shot back, unconsciously moving closer to Daryl. A movement picked up by everyone. "Find things that shouldn't work for what you need, but **do** , then duct tape the shit out of them."

The older adults looked at her as if she'd grown a second head.

"What... you never been a college student before?" She snorted at their disbelief. "Because it's probably one of the reasons I'm alive now. You've got to be innovative."

"It could work." Hershel said.

And suddenly everyone was on his side, thinking of ideas. Plastic bags could be used for the airway, maybe coke bottles, there were plenty of knives already, and soon a plan came together to scour the town for the rest. They would need those plastic shower curtains, garden tools, and a slew of other random objects.

 _Fucking idiots._ Glen thought, unaware that Daryl was thinking the same thing.

"What about the high school?" Beth said, shifting and looking ashamed she'd spoken as soon as attention was on her. Everyone who lived in the house seemed to have a dawning moment as they realized exactly what that meant.

"The FEMA camp." Maggie said. "Beth, you're a genius!"

The girl smiled slightly, but looked too meek to give anything more.

"Wait a second," Shane said, holding up his hand incredulously in front of himself. "You had a FEMA camp? In your town?"

Glen understood Shane's anger. Her own town, big as it was, hadn't had a FEMA camp. It had been deemed too far gone and just bombed. Like many other places, before the entire world had just gone silent. It was a surprise to note any place had actually gotten a FEMA camp to stay, let alone set up their supplies.

"Yeah, had." Maggie said, before she looked bright eyed again. "It was overrun with Lurkers."

Over run, perfect.

"I bet we could get in. The supplies should be basically untouched."

Since it was a much better plan, more solid than jerry-rigging things, everyone was on board.

* * *

"I'm not going on this one. Count me out." Glen said, as soon as they started taking assigned roles. T-dawg was already on his way back to the RV to get the rest of the group. Their group. Glen still felt a little queasy when taking any kind of responsibility for these people. Though she knew that somewhere in her, she did like them.

But Glen drew the line at going out to get supplies when she was dead tired. She could hardly think straight, let alone follow a simple set of orders. Even if Carl was on the line.

"That just leaves me and whoever from the rest of the group." Shane said, staring straight through her. "Rick can't go. Carol has Sophia. Daryl's... well Daryl. We need ya."

"No, you don't. I've done enough running for today."

"Well... What if they get stuck?" Carol asked. As if it was unfathomable that they would do a raid without her. "How can they do it without you?"

"I'm exhausted." Glen said. "They can figure it out. I've done..." She glanced at Sophia and noticed she was dead-asleep. "Quite enough for today."

Carol took the hint that Glen hadn't even meant to transmit and backed down.

"I'll go." Daryl suggested.

"No. It should be fine. I'll go." Shane said, rubbing his head roughly. "The fewer people the better. Once the others get here, we'll have Andrea and Jacqui to ask. Dale, too."

"And Amy?" Glen needled, aware they all thought her invalid.

Shane just looked away. "We'll decide on the group when they get here."

"I'll go too." Maggie said, surprising the group. Otis seemed frazzled but he puffed up and said he'd go. It was clear he felt he was responsible, which he was, but everyone thought him noble. Well, all of his family and friends thought him noble, at least.

So that was three. It was a plenty big enough scouting group. Almost respectable. Glen said as much and everyone seemed to take her word as law. Something that should have made her feel good, but just left an empty spot in her stomach.

They left before the rest of the group even got back.

* * *

Glen visited Rick, who was strapped in giving Carl blood. He looked pale, but healthier than his kid.

It was easy to feel bad for the guy. Woke up three weeks into the apocalyps, lost his wife, kid got shot... now what was there for him? A best friend who had been screwing his wife and who knows what else?

He was stubborn, Glen hardly thought he would just let himself die, but at the same time...

_What was he going to live for if Carl died?_

"He's gonna live." She said, in greeting. Her grandmother had always said spoken words made things come true. More often then not, anyway.

Rick hardly moved. "What if he doesn't?"

Glen didn't answer but sat down with him. Watched Carl breath heavily, a wheezing coming from him. It reminded her of Doug, but for the first time in a long, long time - she didn't see his face.

She saw Carl's.

Grasping his cold hand, she hoped that she would never have to superimpose his face over her long dead partner ever again. Though it filled her with a sense of dread, that people could so simply be forgotten to her.

Glen was thankful that she was healing enough to fit someone new into the position.

Even if that terrified the living hell out of her.

* * *

Glen and Daryl were given a room to share with Shane. Since Shane was out with the others, it was just the two of them. Yet they both shared a bed, since they didn't know when Shane would get back.

Neither of them necessarily wanted to sleep, but both knew they needed it. So. The bed was where they were laying, trying to doze at the very least. It... wasn't easy. Yet, Glen had slept in dire circumstances before. Was this any different?

The quiet was too much, though. The silence.

"You think we'll get through this?" Glen asked, as she rolled over, facing Daryl.

It had been a while since they'd slept so close. In the tent, they were at least an arms length away. In the RV she had taken a bunk and he had taken the other when he had actually **wanted** to sleep. Now, they were very close. Practically in each other's arms. There was only two beds after all.

And she wasn't about to share with Shane.

"We always get through everything." Daryl said in answer.

"You think Rick will survive if Carl does... die?"

"Nah."

She nodded, before letting out a puff of air. It hit Daryl straight in the chest.

"Shit. Things got heavy fast, didn't they?"

Daryl snorted. "Always do."

Which was true. Never for them, of course. Except when it was them. Glen thought about that for a minute before bringing it up to Daryl.

"What about us?"

They didn't talk about their dynamic much. When Merle had been around, it had been almost too easy to just let the dice fall where they may. Now. Now it was just the two of them. Stuck in a group that was starting to become something presentable but also foreign.

Daryl turned the question back on her, but not before stiffening. "What _about_ us?"

"Think we'll make it to see our next birthdays?"

"Glen," He snorted, the closest thing she'd heard in the last few days to a laugh. "You and I got the most chance out of **everybody**. Here anyways."

"Cause we're just so good lookin' right?" Glen teased, before backing up farther away from the edge, right into Daryl.

"That and we both got a mean shot with a gun and arrow."

They both chuckled at that before the silence returned, somber as ever. Glen thought of Carl, sitting in that bed, on the brink of death. Rick over him, giving blood. Carol and Sophia reunited. Lori dead. Shane drinking by the fire. Memories poured in, but ended back on Carl's face. Pale. Deathly pale.

"This really fucking sucks." She said.

Daryl famously responded with one word.

"Yeah."

* * *

It was almost five in the morning, Glen guestimated, when she woke up.

Groggily, she swiped at her eyes and rolled over into the solid chest of Daryl. His arms, still in sleep as he was, automatically wound around her. An embrace that was comfortable, even against his wall of muscle. She hadn't been expecting that. Hadn't woken up in somebodies arms in years.

It took her a moment. Blinking and looking at the early light streaming into the room from the window, giving everything a surreal quality to it, but she got her first really good look at Daryl. When he was sleeping.

The people of the farm had allowed them to use their showers, which had still worked, and now the grime that had been caked on their faces was gone. It gave Daryl a new look. The tanned skin of his face and shoulders looked smooth. He'd built muscle since Glen had joined he and Merle those long days ago, at the beginning, and now was beginning to build muscle. Also, his hair was shaggy, something she hadn't noticed, but now that it fell in front of his eyes, couldn't help but point out.

It was then that Glen noticed that Shane was back, collapsed on his bed. Clean, new clothes, and all that jazz.

Which meant...

Glen bolted upwards.

 _Carl had been operated on._ She knew it had been time sensitive. Shane gets back. They operate. Glen and Daryl had been so tired, exhausted, that neither of them had even blinked before falling asleep. It had been quick. Painless. Glen almost felt bad, but she knew she had saved herself hours of emotional turmoil. Of seeing Dougs face over and over again.

Daryl was up in an instant. Up before he was even fully awake.

It took him a blink or two before he realized where he was and who was next to him and that Glen was ram-rod straight.

"Wut?" He asked, blinking himself into alertness with a talent that always amazed Glen.

"Carl." Was what she said, simply, as she shimmied out of bed. She was in her underwear and a tanktop - not exactly gifted in the 'rack' department as Merle would call it - so she quickly jumped into her jeans, threw on a flannel, and flipped her hair away from her face.

"Think he made it?" Daryl asked as he too started to get changed.

"Think we woulda heard something if he hadn't." Was what Glen answered with. "And," She added. "Don't think Shane would be sleeping so pretty if Carl was... well,"

Glen, unfortunately, was not omnipotent. Glen, for all her guiding know how and understanding how pack these people were, failed to understand one thing. One measly little thing.

Carl was the last piece of Lori left on this earth - so of course he was going to live. No matter what.

No matter who it cost.

* * *

"So... he'll live?" Glen said, standing by the bed that Carl was laid out on. Rick sitting next to him with the biggest, widest grin she'd ever seen on a living person. Carl was white as a sheet still. Rick had given so much blood, he was just as pale, but the pure joy - it outshone the sun.

Glen couldn't help but be glad she'd saved his sorry ass.

"He's stable." Maggie repeated Hershel's words, as he had been all night. She looked like she had only just woke up. Which wasn't too far from the truth, since it was only about five thirty in the morning. She probably hadn't slept much at all. She and Shane and the man who had shot Carl had all left to go on the supply run. Glen almost felt ashamed that she had slept through it, but knew that sitting around doing nothing wasn't going to help anyone.

Glen didn't know what this feeling inside of her was. It was a mix of relief so sharp it ached and the sense of 'finally' and 'done'. It was the complete opposite of what she had felt when Doug had died. Yet, it was similar, since it was intense. All consuming.

"Thank god," Glen said, relieved, smiling as she hadn't smiled in a while.

Daryl just stayed back a ways, but Glen was good at reading him. He was relieved. It showed in the tenseness of his shoulders, how he carried himself. All good signs.

Yet, for all the good emotions Glen was feeling, she could sense something was wrong. Maggie had been mostly smiles the night before. Mostly serious, too, but in a good way.

Her eyes were red. Her cheeks puffy.

She'd been crying, Glen realized.

"So... if Carl is going to pull through..." She cocked her head, aware it made her look cute and innocent. People always spilled their guts, even if they didn't want to, to her when she did that. "Why do you look somebody died?"

Maggie stiffened. Her hands clenched into fists. Glen didn't understand at first, didn't get it all even as Maggie said the words:

"Otis didn't make it back last night."

* * *

_Anddddddd whomp there it is. Hope you guys liked it. I am working on some non-canon stuff soon. Promise. As soon as they leave the farm everything is going to be soooo sooooooooo off from the tv-show. :) So hope you enjoy! Also, Beth is like one of my all time favorite characters/ character development, so she is DEF NOT DYING NO WAY NO HOW. :\_


	14. You got it, Madam President

So I have about three or four chapters written up, but I still have a lot of plot and what not to focus on.

I have general ideas of where I want to go, so I don't burn out and get tired with the story planning it to death, but it's been hard to find time to read over things, to plan, and generally just to write. I don't want to set into a story path and then get caught in a stupid plot line. So that's what I've been going through, at the moment. Lots of just... questions.

I should have uploaded this last week, but everything's been a bit crazy here. I'm looking for a new job, I was in a car accident a few weeks ago and even though I am not hurt (thank god) I'm still a little shook up by it, and just work. Man. Work.

* * *

_You got it, Madam President_

* * *

"They're still not here yet?" Carol asked as they all sat at the breakfast table.

The farmers had been kind enough to provide them with a easy breakfast of eggs, cheese, and bacon. A meal fit for a king, Glen thought to herself as she ate just enough to satisfy, not wanting to be greedy. It felt hard and farm in her stomach, and she felt a little unsettled by it, but food was food.

"Ain't seen or heard nothing." Daryl confirmed, leaning back against the wall. "Thought that RV woulda made that stupid chuggin' noise it makes. Damn loud enough to wake a whole town."

Glen had to agree, that thing was _stupid loud_ and **annoying**.

"Damnit." Glen said in response, rubbing her face tiredly. "We _sooo_ don't need this."

Her head _thunk'd_ against the chair she was seated on.

Daryl readjusted the crossbow on his shoulder. Glen watched the action in contemplation. He was itching to get out. To go and hunt something. She almost felt for him. Almost.

"When should we go lookin' for them?"

"I'll go now." Daryl said, hefting his crossbow and walking out of the room without comment.

"Lovely." Carol said, giving a tepid smile and taking a sip of her orange juice. "Eat your peppers, Sophia."

Glen, for once, agreed. Not about the peppers, but about Daryl leaving and going to get the RV. Their group.

A spoon raised to her mouth, she paused. _Her group? Their group? When had that started?_

Oh fuck. Not what she needed. Definitely not. To claim these people... to really care about them. That was a long, dark road that she wasn't sure she wanted to go down. Wasn't sure she had a choice to go down or not. Because... hadn't she already made her choice?

_Just fucking great._

It was then Shane entered into the kitchen and her thoughts scattered in the wind.

He'd shaved his head. That was the first thing Glen noticed. The second thing was his limp. His injuries. Clear. He had that wide-eyed look, as if he couldn't process everything around him. His breathing was even and calm but he looked like he was having a panic attack. It was a face she had gotten used to seeing on different people.

Never Shane though.

 _Then again_ , Glen thought to herself, _he did lose a man last night._

That could do things to your head.

"You alright?" She asked as Carol kept her eyes on the table, as timid as usual. Which, that itself was aggravating. She knew the woman had a backbone, she just had to dig it out and show it.

Shane took a moment after sitting to look at her.

"Donno."

"What happened last night... this morning?" Glen felt she needed to ask, if only so she could defend Shane later.

"Donno."

 _Well... That's helpful._ Glen felt like hitting herself with a shovel, yet she knew she needed to be nice. Shane had gone through an ordeal last night. In the name of his best friends son, his adopted son almost. Glen could feel herself softening.

"Were you there... did you watch?" Sophia asked, not sensing the awkwardness of the room. She had those wide eyes, just wanting answers. She spooned a scoop of eggs into her mouth as she waited for an answer.

Shane tensed up but he answered the kid. "No. He... He fell behind." Glen could only watch as he paused.

 _That sucked..._ Glen thought to herself, very aware that saying such a thing wouldn't be the best idea.

 _But_ , and Glen wanted to kick herself for thinking this, for thinking of one life over another, for the world doing this to her brain, _but... Thank god Shane had been the one to survive._

* * *

As well as Otis being lost during the night, when the rest of the crew showed up at the farm, Glen was informed that Jacqui was gone as well. The group looked morose and sluggish. Driving up far slower than Glen thought anyone would have when they found an oasis such as the farm.

Dale was first to speak as Daryl just walked on past her. Brushing her shoulder with an air about him that reminded her distinctly of Merle.

"Jacqui left during the night," The older man said, face earnest. "Left a note."

Amy was the one who had it. "Want to read it?"

 _What?_ Glen thought, shocked, but nodded, taking the proffered paper.

_**Took a gun. A bullet.** _

_**Don't come after me.** _

_**Going to find a quiet place to -** _

Here something was scritched out. Three things. What looked like _die_ and _do what I gotta do_ and _end it_.

_**\- you know. Should have been me, not Jim.** _

Made sense why Daryl was angry at the woman. Throwing away her life, ammo, a gun - and for what?

Peace? Death? An _easy_ death?

Glen barely managed to contain a scoff but walked back into the house, tossing the note to the ground behind her, where Amy scrambled to pick it up, holding it close to her chest. Her face unreadable. A brokenness right underneath the surface that Glen ignored, because if she looked to closely, she'd see a mirror image of herself.

As Glen entered the house, Beth stopped her with a polite touch to her upper arm. "Otis's funeral is in a few."

The asian could only nod once, sadly, trying not to look at Shane.

Only she wasn't that great and she did. She looked at the man.

And he, he was looking at Rick, as if he was the only thing that mattered.

 _Perhaps... perhaps he was._ Glen could only think before sitting down and taking a gulp of coffee as Carol and Rick informed the rest of camp what had happened, what they had missed, and what they were going to do about it.

What everyone was going to do about it.

* * *

The funeral for the man Glen had only known in anger and then in pity was short and to the point. The RV had made it back almost an hour after Daryl had left to go get farmers, since they didn't have a body, stacked rocks one on top of each other. Glen was impressed with how much they stacked, since it reached well up to her hips. They'd only been at it since first sunlight. Glen's group had helped as much as they were allowed, and now they all stood, except for Rick and Carl, around the shrine to Otis.

Then, as it came to an end and Herschel finished speaking; Patricia asked Shane to speak.

"You were the last one with him." She sniffled, all tears and big doe eyes. "Would you say few words?"

Shane looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Terrified and also ashamed but also... not?

"I don't... I don't know if - " Shane stuttered, but Patricia interrupted with tears coating her every word.

" _Please_." The sob in the woman's throat was attractive and pitiful. "Please. You were the last one with him. I just - I just - need to know how he went."

Shane caved much like someone in the direct line of fire caved. As if he were about to face an entire battalion of rifles. He took a hesitant limping step forward, meeting absolutely no one's eyes.

"We were trapped in the school. In the gym. We both managed to get out, him through the lockers and me through the second floor window of the gym." Shane began, giving way more of the story than he had before. "I... I hurt my leg during the fall. A Walker getting me before I got out the window proper. Not bit, just, grabbed me."

Everyone stood and watched, listened, in rapt attention.

"He saved my life," Shane said, voice thick with emotions as he sniffed and tried to be strong. "The Walkers were converging on us. We didn't have much time. Said he'd hold them off. I... I let him and then when I turned back - "

Shane cut himself off, looking away, pointedly, trying to breath through his nose.

"Maggie picked me up as I got away. Otis had been... had been - " He struggled but then he straightened up. "He died to save me. To save Carl."

There was something in his eyes there as he squared his jaw, jutted his chin up, and looking forward into nothing.

"I won't never forget that."

Glen tried to feel relief that he had gotten his story out and in the open, but all she could do was shiver. Knowing, as she knew most things now, instinct, a slimey feeling in her gut, or maybe some kind of sixth sense - Shane was lying. He was lying about Otis's death.

Closing her eyes, tilting her head back a fraction of an inch she could only think, _**fuck.**_

Yet, no one was any the wiser, except perhaps Dale.

But Dale was always looking for an excuse to hate Shane. Afterall, Andrea and Amy both looked at him as if the sun shone out of his ass.

So, Glen thought again to herself, Fuck.

And this time it resonated deep within her bones.

* * *

Rick took it on himself to negotiate with the older man. The crotchety, stubborn, didn't know what the fuck he was talking about - old man. With Carl on the mend, Shane and Rick and Carol with Sophia all took turns watching him. Waiting for him to awaken and tell them all what he was feeling.

Everyone else was mostly left to their own devices.

Which left Glen with a problem.

Shane had lied about Otis. About how Otis died. _Why would he do that? Why on Gods green earth would he think it was a good idea to lie about that?_

...Unless... **He** had something to do with Otis's death.

Glen felt an uncomfortable cold shiver travel down her spine.

 _Shit. If he... If he had killed Otis, then - but why?_ Glen couldn't string thoughts together coherently.

Had he killed him for revenge? To escape the Walkers? Why had Shane done it?

And was Glen absolutely sure he had done it?

Furthermore, if he had done anything, say kill the man, what was she going to do about it?

"You're awfully quiet." Amy said as she plopped down next to Glen on the porch.

"Just thinking." Glen said quickly, perhaps too quickly.

"Hopefully not too hard?" Andreas younger sister jibbed, elbowing Glen in the ribs. It was a light touch. Easy.

"I try not to." Glan said, faking a smile.

The younger sister of Andrea is a small little thing. As tall as Glen yet, somehow, shorter. She had a quiet air about her and a kindness that Glen had seen peek through in that farm girl, Beth. Like kindred spirits. Even so, Glen could see a little bit of Andreas fire and spirit in the girl. Like a flashlight under a pillow.

It wasn't often that Glen hung out or even talked to the youngest members of their group, or even the girls, but ever since Merle had been left behind everyone had seemed to take it as the signal that Daryl and Glen were safe. It left a sour taste in Glen's mouth, but she got over it.

"So anything you want to talk about?" Amy asked.

Glen stilled for half a second before feeling a fleeting moment of insanity strike her.

"Shane."

Amy didn't get too pokey or anything, didn't even really raise an eyebrow, just said, "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"What for? Cause of... cause of that man's death?"

Glen felt even more uneasy as Amy looked away from her. "Yeah."

"What for?"

"No reason. Just thinking on it." Glen made sure to space her words equally. Softly. She didn't want the younger girl to catch on. "Probably was awful. Seeing that happen and all."

There was no need for Glen to worry. Amy was as oblivious to her thoughts as was anyone but maybe Daryl.

"It sucks. That's for sure. Doesn't help that he's good looking."

"Good looking?" Glen found herself echoing. She'd never even kind of considered the man as such. He had been taken as far as she was concerned. By Lori. Now, Rick. Though she didn't think that was a relationship built on anything sexual. More of a bro-mance.

She could be wrong...

Glen had never looked twice at the man and she wasn't about to now.

"Yeah, you know," Amy said, smiling that sneaky smile of a pre-teen girl about to whisper secrets with her best friend. She even took a quick check around as if to make sure the object of their conversation wasn't near. Not that he would be. He had been drafted by the farm to cut wood. "That strong bone structure, those eyes, don't even get me started on the body. Whipped cream body-shots, anybody?"

It was so surreal, to be sitting on a porch, talking about something as innocent and ridiculous as men, all while the world burned around them. Glen almost didn't hear her next sentence.

"Then again, you'd know all about crushing on a guy with a body like a god."

 _Body like a god?_ Glen thought before it clicked and she bushed. An honest to god blush. _**Daryl.**_

"It's not like that." Glen said, firmly. Trying to keep her thoughts off of how Daryl had looked before she had woken him this morning. Sleeping, quiet, without any kind of thoughts to give his face that rough edge to it. She repeated. "It's not like that at all."

"Not even a little?" Amy said, a smile lighting the corners of her mouth.

Glen's blush didn't abate and she couldn't really deny that, though she wanted to.

"Maybe a little."

"You know, I never got you two. But, you work. And... well, I never heard how you and he met." Amy said, effectively derailing any kind of productive day Glen thought she was going to have.

"I suppose how everyone meets during the apocalypse." Glen said, shifting to get comfortable.

She didn't necessarily want to talk about any of the past. It was stupid, but, maybe talking about it would help with her other problem. That little problem of morality and good versus evil and survival. Of what if Shane did kill Otis? What was his rational? And... did it even matter?

 **She'd** killed for a protein bar before.

"We were surrounded. He had a crossbow to my head and we got attacked by walkers. We had no other choice than to work together. After we got out of the city..." Glen tried not to let Doug's face permeate her very mind, but it did anyway. "Well, there was only one way to go."

And that way, regardless of what everyone said, wasn't up.

"Wait, surrounded? What were you doing that lead to you to meeting?"

And Glen really couldn't say why she sat there for a few minutes more, rehashing the past, and telling Amy, a girl who by all accounts probably shouldn't have survived, her past-story.

But it did feel good.

"We were looking for food. You see, the world had just ended after all and we were running low - "

The younger woman listened with large eyes as Glen spun a tale. Almost all of it being true.

* * *

Shane watched Rick sit with Carl. The kid flat on the bed, head propped up by a pillow, and Rick sitting up against the headboard, brushing back pieces of his hair.

The kid had woken up a few times. Each time talking about that damn, stupid deer. His voice stupidly happy. Pained, but not nearly as much as if he hadn't seen that deer. Yet, even as angry at that deer and Otis as he was, the kid's voice was like a balm to the ache in his chest. Every little whisper, every up-and-down of his chest, it was like life was breathed back in. Each and every time.

It was why he hadn't left the room since the funeral had ended.

This was why he had killed Otis. Shot him in the leg. Left him to fend for himself, helpless. Let the Walkers tear him into ribbons and ribbons and ribbons.

_I had to get back._

Carl's voice, his presence, his everything. It was worth it. And he wouldn't have seen it, had he failed, had they failed the mission given to them. Had the supplies not reached the house in time. Had Shane hesitated a moment longer, a minute longer. Had Maggie not been left on get-away-car duty.

Everything had been up in the air.

_If I hadn't, he wouldn't be alive._

Shane still felt raw, inside his chest and outside, each breath tasting like ash, but it was getting easier.

Because, no matter that he had taken his first innocent life, no matter that he had turned away, purposely, from the dying man and his screams behind him, no matter anything, Carl was alive because of his actions.

And that, over everything, was what made it bearable. A life for a life was useless if you thought every single life was worth the same. It would be impossible to live with yourself if you considered each life precious, special, important.

Which is why, Shane felt, it was easier to consider this: Some lives are worth more than others.

Miraculously, after that revelation, it was easier to breath.

It was also considerably easier to look Patricia in the eye the next day, smile sadly like they shared grief, and eat her cooking. Bacon only tasted slightly off and Shane, honest to god, could work with that.

* * *

Glen didn't know when it happened, but she found herself sitting out by their makeshift camp, going through their notepad of supplies, and whistling.

A happy tune. Something with a three beat that she could almost dance too.

Something that Doug had whistled.

Carol and Sophia were collecting firewood and stacking it into a neat little pile as Glen stiffened. Dale on top of the RV on lookout. The rest of the camp off, doing god only knows. Shane and Rick had been exclusively quiet. T-dawg is his loud and absurd self. Glen had a moment of realization as Jimmy, the farm boy, and Maggie came to drop off a basket of apples they'd picked, that something had changed within her.

The rest of her camp went silent, as Carol rose to talk to the young girl and boy pair (not a real pair though, because Beth and Jimmy were apparently a thing, Glen knew because she noticed things). It was quiet in the clearing but Glen didn't feel safe or calm or even easy.

Not until Maggie and Jimmy left, bringing the basket with them.

It was a realization that it was the farm and her people. Them and us.

For all her bravado and tough-attitude, Glen couldn't remember ever actually thinking to herself:

_My group. My people. My... anything._

Her hand stilled on the notepad, pen held tightly, as she tried to remember how to breath.

 _Oh. God. No._ She could only think, closing her eyes in despair as she noticed something that had been growing within her. Something that she'd though she could stomp out, as she had for everyone after the Dixon's. But it stayed. It festered inside of her.

Her people. Her group.

Her's.

_Fuck. She was fucked._

* * *

"Herschel seems to think I'm the leader of our group." Rick said the next, next day as he came out of the room Carl was laying in to set up with everyone sitting around the camp fire. It was now three days since everyone had moved from the side of the road to close to the Greene house. The RV was set up with their tents around it, strategically, in case of any kind of attack.

"I was wondering why he took you out to walk the property lines," Shane muttered into his cereal without milk. He had had a good day yesterday and today seemed to be the complete opposite. He still had a limp that Glen noticed was getting a little better.

"Makes sense," Dale said, nodding. "He saw you barking orders at us when your son was shot. You also just have an... air about you. Probably from being sherif of your town."

 _Ever poetic Dale, ever poetic_ , Glen thought snorting to herself.

"What did he want?" Glen ended up asking what everyone was beating around the bush about.

"He wanted to let me know in no uncertain terms that once Carl was better, he wanted us off his property."

Everyone stilled. The only one's missing from the campfire were T-dawg, for who knows why, Daryl, Andrea, who were both off scouting the property for different reasons, Carl, for obvious reasons, and Sophia, because she was on Carl duty.

"What did you say?" Shane said, cereal forgotten.

"I told him that I didn't think he understood what the world outside his fence was really like, and that if he really knew, he wouldn't ask us to leave."

Glen smiled thinly, _cowboys got balls. Nice to know._

"So... that does bring up a good point," Amy said, eyes shifting around to everyone as they all shifted to look at her. "Who is the leader in this little group of ours?"

The curve of conversation made Glen pause over her peach.

"I thought that was obvious." Dale said.

Glen reached for her water.

"You did?" Amy asked. The same time Carol and Rick did.

"Well, sure."

"Want to enlighten the rest of us?" Shane asked, finally settling down his partially empty bowl.

"Glen, of course,"

_**What?!** _

The asian woman in question was proud that she only coughed on the water she was swishing in her mouth _once_ , before spluttering it up in a fountain of backwash. Amy patted her back awkwardly.

"How the hell did you come up with that?" Glen demanded, as soon as she could breath.

Dale didn't even really blink. "You've saved our asses more times than I can count, kept the best hunter these parts of Georgia around, kept us alive as well as reunited a family torn apart by this whole debacle," As Dale talked his hands started waving, pointing things out verbally and with hands. "Hell, you're responsible for half of our lives alone."

"And that gives me leader-rights?" Glen demanded, standing halfway through Dale's last sentence.

_Oh god, these people_ _**did** _ _consider me their go-to-leadership._

"He does have a point." Amy said, shrugging her shoulders at Glen's venomous stare. "Oh don't give me that look. You know he's right, too."

Glen's head was spinning.

She knew that she was god's gift to these people, but having them actually _understand_ that? She hadn't thought them smart enough to put two and two together. Namely the equation of: Glen + plan = survival.

_How long had some of them been thinking this?_

Looking round, she noticed that nobody was particularly surprised. Dale just looked smug, Amy had those big eyes that screamed innocent and oh-dearie me did I do that, while Shane and Rick seemed to be sharing a look of contemplation as if they hadn't had enough time, let alone sleep to decide anything. The icing on the cake, of course, was Carol's barely lip-upturned smile.

It said everything the woman never said.

 _It's true._ It said. _They're right._

 _Of course they're right,_ Glen thought angry with herself that she hadn't noticed them all getting smart with this downtime they had.

"Oh fuck, you all are actually considering it." Glen muttered, suddenly terrified. These people could be incredibly stupid in a group, after all. Which meant that their thought process was either brilliant or fucking terrifying. Glen couldn't decide which. "And what if I didn't even want it?"

"Well," Shane said, rubbing the stubble that was growing back on his chin. "Guess it's always just been a matter of survival. How I see it. Rick and I both did a more than passable job, when it was in our court."

"What does that mean?"

Rick didn't quite smile. "I was the sheriff. Shane headed the group before you. We can help you out, but I don't think either of us are in any way... ready for any kind of responsibility."

 _It's the fucking apocalypse_ , Glen wanted to shout. _Grow up!_

"So what you're saying is that you don't want the responsibilities anymore."

He avoided the question.

"You don't want to order us around? You don't want us to listen to you?" Rick asked, a smile pulling at his mouth.

"Well, of course I do," Glen said, offended for a second. "But I kind of like this whole group-voting kind of thing. Plus, you all listen to me when I speak anyway, you're not idiots, why would I need a _title_ for it?"

Carol finally piped up. "And what happens when we decide on a really, really stupid course of action, like, _I don't know_ , leaving all our food behind because it would slow us down? Or keeping a pet walker? Hell, what if we decided that killing and eating each other was a good course of action by majority vote?"

"Well," And Glen didn't have a response to that, because, what if they did? What if they all agreed on a stupid plan of action and she voted against it and they still all decided to do it?

_Fuck._

"Everyone gets to vote. We're having elections, got it? I'm not the only candidate. If I'm going to be madam president, I need contenders."

They all smiled and nodded, but Glen knew that thought they had her cornered.

She also knew, though, that Andrea and T-Dawg were her ace up the sleeve. The only way Glen could think of getting out of it was if Andrea and T-Dawg managed to convince everyone else what a stupid plan it was. They would throw such a stink about her being 'captain missus president' that they would all have a childish-melt down until someone else was chosen.

She smiled. It was perfect.

* * *

Except, of course, she forgot that Amy apparently had a way with words. And T-Dawg, for some ungodly reason, actually _liked_ her. Even after she had allowed Merle to beat the shit out of him on the rooftop.

Maybe he was into that whole pain-pleasure thing...

The voting was almost completely unanimous. The only one who voted for someone else was Sophia, but that was because she thought her mother was a candidate and honestly - _who wouldn't vote for their own mother?_ Carl had only been conscious for a while and they didn't want to strain him with anything, but he had caught on and also voted for Glen. But said if Daryl had been in the running he would have placed his vote on him.

"I thought I could at least depend on _you_ ," Glen hissed at Daryl, who didn't even look smug or overjoyed or anything. He just gave her a measured look, chewing on his cattail, before shrugging.

"You'r the best for it. If anyones gonna, anyway."

"Before all this I couldn't even take care of a goldfish," Glen hissed, this time at everyone. "What makes you think I can take care of adults?"

Andrea rolled her eyes. "You're not going to micromanage us. We know how to live our lives. We've been doing it for years, thanks a lot, jackass."

" _Not_ what I meant, Andrea," Glen said, feeling like she was locked in a loony bin.

"She knows what ya meant," T-Dawg said, huffing. "And honestly, still agree you're the best for it."

"Plus," Rick said, leaning back against the wall he was leaning against. "We'll all decide for the little things, by ourselves, and we'll listen to your opinions on everything else."

"Fine." Glen said through gritted teeth.

Rick wasn't finished though. "You should also probably go talk with Herschel."

"Yeah," Shane agreed, with eyes lighting up with something like amusement. "Probably smart."

"Fuck you all," Glen said, but took everything as she always had.

Head on, by the horns, without stopping to consider what she could be doing wrong. It was what the group liked about her, apparently, and so she wasn't about to change her tactics just because she was now the leader -

Glen stopped just outside the door to the house, looking into the house to see Beth had noticed her. She and a boy who Glen barely talked to were sitting on the couch, but Beth rose to greet her. The youngest girl was coming closer, with a smile, as if to open the door to let her in.

_Oh god, what had she gotten herself into?_

* * *

And so begins Glen's trek into Madam Missus President land. Or, as I like to call it personally, the Shit Show. You know, the part where everything goes to shit and everyone's gonna blame her but really its not her fault. But blah and blah and blah. All that good stuff ;D


	15. Apples and Walkers; Yours and Mine

_Apparently this story is 78K~. I honestly haven't been paying attention, because I usually space out my stories to about 5K a chapter if I can, but that's kind of huge. Wow. Uhm. Sorry? I think I only meant to have this story be like 50K - 60K at the max. So thats a lot. Like a lot a lot._

_Anyway._

_On to story thoughts._

_I personally believe that Lori was half the reason Shane went crazy. Well, all right she was the FULL reason, but after Rick came back - she was half the reason. I mean, Shane killed someone for her son, she blew him off for protecting her (even though that's all he's ever done? Like... ?) and also she was a bitch. To everyone. She could have handled him way better than feeling guilty and taking it out on him. Shane was an asshole though, so there is that. It's just Lori pushed him into like... super-asshole-dom. Super-saian-asshole._

_Yeah. So those are my thoughts of the month._

_That's a new thing too. Apparently, I'm on a mostly monthly updating cycle. So. Yeah. Kind of nice? Oh who am I kidding, hope I didn't jinx it, I will try and update by the end of next month as well. No promises. :)_

* * *

_**Apples and Walkers; Yours and Mine** _

* * *

It was like being back in her living room, in her parents house, on prom night, where her parent were interrogating her seventeen year old date except she was alone and her parents were one lone man who looked at her with a steady, unflinching gaze. And her prom date had abandoned her.

All of the sudden, Glen had more respect for Rick than she had ever had before.

_Come on Glen, you've faced down Walker hoardes five and six, ten strong. You can do this._

Yet, she'd never had to consciously think of anyone else's fate than her own. It was always her and then it had been the Dixons. Now. Now it was her and her group against the world. Her group. Eww. It still sounded wrong. Sounded like responsibility. The kind she had been running from her whole life.

"Our group just had a little pow-wow," Glen started the conversation off with something light hearted. Slang. The man didn't seem to care that she'd spoken words at all. "Voted in a new leader. And all that jazz."

Herschel looked her up and down.

"You're it?"

Glen nodded, once, with finality.

The man looked her over. She returned the favor. He didn't look like much. Sure, in his youth he might have been a troublesome sort and as a Walker - no doubt he would have been a terror - but he wasn't much more than an older man in the end of the world. Just looking at him reminded Glen of those people back in Atlanta. The elderly. The caretakers. The ones who were probably dead.

"Hmmm," Herschel hummed."You're the one I'll be dealing with then? From here on out?"

Something about the old southern man had her saying, "Yes, sir."

He nodded again.

"Is that all?" Herschel asked.

"As near as I can see it?" Glen asked. Not waiting for a nod or an affirmation. "Yes."

"Will do."

And that was it.

* * *

You know, except it's **not**.

* * *

It had been a day, a single, solitary day, but Glen could already feel it all crashing in on her.

And really, it had started out innocent enough.

"Really, Rick, is this that important?" Glen asked as she allowed herself to be led towards the back of the barn. She watched as Jimmy scowled at something Dale said, looking longingly at Beth, and thinking that Rick had better be quick about whatever it was he needed.

"Kind of." Rick said, glancing back just long enough to make sure she was following.

"Alright," Glen sighed, and then as they stopped, settled into a slouch against the wall. "So. Ya got me where ya want me. Shoot."

"Herschel came to talk to me." Rick said and then stared at Glen. As if that alone should explain why he had dragged her away from her brooding over the fact that she was now the 'leader'. Except, it didn't. It explained exactly zero.

"... Is... Is that all?" Glen asked, raising a brow as she let out a very, very aggravated breath.

Rick looks a little shocked and put off his game. "Glen. We chose you as our leader. He should be coming to **you**. You told him as much."

Glen stared at him. Really stared.

Was this what being leader entailed? Didn't they _**just**_ promise her that she wouldn't have to deal with petty things like this?

_... Even if, technically, Rick was right?_

Glen slapped a hand over her face, dragging it down, and gave a long sigh as she looking through her pointer finger and middle finger at Rick. "A day... A fucking day. Do you think he did it _specifically_ to undermine my **'authority'**?"

She thought to herself, _authority was a bit of a strong word to use for only being elected, like, twelve hours before_.

"Believe me, Glen," Rick said in that voice that her father used to use after she'd made a bad life decision. "You need to cement your position. Especially with those... outside the group."

"So you're telling me I need to confront him? Best defense is a good offense, kind of thing?" Glen asked, for clarification.

Rick grimaced at the word choice, but nodded.

"Yeah."

Snarling to herself, Glen said, "Alright. Fine. Then, yeah. I'll go and talk to him."

Rick looked immensely relieved as he informed her exactly what all was said during their little meeting.

Then Glen was distracted by Jimmy blowing up at Dale and stomping off to the horse barn.

_What the hell?_

* * *

That was the first problem of many. That Herschel had come up to talk to him about the group and then moving on soon, rather than her, was apparently a seriously bad thing. The fact that he went to Rick, white, ex-sherrif, cowboy, instead of her - meant he wasn't taking her seriously.

But dear lord, that wasn't the only problem. Not by half.

Since everyone had voted her in, they'd all taken her aside at separate times to talk to her.

Well. Most of them had.

Amy had taken her aside for advice on what to do with a potential 'like' of a boy. Glen had told her point blank that as long as it wasn't with a Walker, nobody was going to care either way. The look on her face, the relief, had been so potent Glen had immediately wanted to backtrack, but with her apparent blessing, Amy had flounced off, to go get herself into deep shit. Probably.

Her sister was another matter.

All Andrea wanted to do was stare Glen down and then complain that they didn't get enough gun training, and what about food, and 'if you're going to be the leader, Glen, don't you think you should be a little more proactive?' Glen hadn't had much of a conversation with her, since Andrea had said her peace and had been called away, thankfully, by T-Dawg.

Dale had been the best conversation by far. He'd been keeping track of their food, their supplies, and the gas in their tanks on a little notebook he kept with him at all times. He had columns and numbers and it was honestly impressive to look at. He sat down and just talked about everything Glen needed to know, going in, to keep the group well fed, protected, and happy.

Glen had felt more qualified just listening to him talk than she had all day.

Carol had simple informed Glen that she was more than happy to do the washing, the cleaning, the cooking, and whatever else they needed to do to keep the camp running. Informing Glen, as well, that she and Sophia would be there to help every step of the way to keeping everyone alive and well. Carol and Dale had started working on jerry-rigging some random household objects, but it was good for the both of them, kept their minds off the losses they both suffered.

T-Dawg, Shane, and Daryl hadn't come to talk to her, but she also didn't think they would. With the exception of Daryl, she really had nothing to say to them.

T-Dawg did his own thing. And Daryl left camp at daybreak and returned sometimes hours later, as the sun was setting or not at all. She worried, occasionally, but this was Daryl, he had a good grasp of the world and surviving it.

Shane was a troubled guy, as far as Glen could see. She was almost positive that he had killed Otis at this point, but she wasn't about to bring up that little... problem. Not only that but Shane seemed to think he could sleep off his _'problem'_. Glen had already caught a glimpse of him and Andrea that very morning. Then him and Amy. If she hadn't been assumed 'property' of Daryl, he probably would have made a pass on her. Too. Only, maybe it was more complicated than that and Shane actually respected her -

 _Oh who knows?_ Glen certainly didn't.

He was in charge of teaching everyone to shoot (a self appointed task) and therefore wasn't around 'camp' all that often. Shane and Rick had set up a practice arena for shooting guns, to teach those in the group and also from the farm, how to shoot and defend themselves. The women of the farm, which vastly outnumbered the men, had welcomed all the help they could get from Glen's group with open arms.

But, of course, that was where the biggest problem came in. Because, Herschel of course, was all butt hurt over Shane teaching his girls and farm hand how to shoot without asking for **permission**. Permission. Like something out of some feudal lord novel. Lords of the rings and what not.

Which, fine, don't be a dick about it though.

And... oh god, the list could go on and on and on if Glen really wanted to just sit and snarl about everything.

 **Everyone** had problems. Their **problems** had _problems_.

Glen didn't even know how many until that very morning when they had all spilled out of the woodwork like earthworms in a thunderstorm.

* * *

"Oh, you won't have to micromanage, _Glen_ ," She mocked Andreas voice as she walked to the other smaller barn, the one they were allowed near. It held equipment and everything and also the man she wanted to see. Sir jackass of the farm himself.. "We can take care of ourselves, _Glen_. We're fucking adults, _**Glen**_."

Glen desperately wanted to punch the woman in her face.

"We can take care of ourselves, _my ass_."

"Bunch of fucking babies," She whisper-mocked to herself before drawing herself up.

Glen saw Herschel before he saw her. Probably before he even heard her. She was just that good. She waited, of course, until eye contact was established, before talking.

"Rick told me you wanted to talk to me." That's not what he said. He had said that Herschel wanted them gone and that he had point blank told him that. Glen knew how to play games, how to walk around offenses and how to be straight when the situation called for it. This situation didn't call for anything except for showing that she was _fucking in charge_ and the old bastard had better see it as such, or else.

Herschel gave her another measured look, "Rick and I already talked," before turning back.

Glen stared at him for a moment.

_So. That's how it was going to be._

Being with her group, it was beginning to be slightly foreign to actually be considered less-than. The man probably didn't think he was doing anything. Hell, he probably just thought he was being reasonable. What was a woman compared to Rick? What was an asian little girl, who'd survived the fucking apocalypse, compared to a pasty white guy who wouldn't be alive without her?

Glen put on her most charming smile. It could have blinded astronauts for all she knew. It was sweet and kind and it was everything she was _not_ feeling. Living in a _barely_ second generation household will do that to you.

"That's great. Awesome. Except, you know, for the fact that Rick," Glen made sure to pause before adding, "For all we may love him, has just gone through a _terrible_ , **terrible** trauma. He's also, dearie me, not the one in charge, anymore." Glen added the last word, to make it seem like she had taken it, that it had been given over.

"So, as you can probably tell, he told me what you said and I am the one who needs to hear it directly from the source. Not him. Since, you know trauma and no longer being the one in charge and all."

Herschel straightened up.

"Is there something you're trying to say?"

"Yes, there is," Glen dropped the nice smile. "Stop trying to fuck with my people."

it was amazing how quickly a man can turn, from polite and sensible to something mean and slightly-racist. Which, yes, was a stretch to his current facial expression, but she had lived with Merl. She stretched.

"Now listen here - "

"Please, don't even try." Glen said, holding up a hand to stop the man. Not letting him interject. Glen was angry after that. After everything she had gone through during the day, the cold anger just welled up and she _kind of_ took it out on him.

"We've been through hell this past week." She snarled at him. "Half our camp was wiped out during a Walker attack, we've lost a few on the road, Carl got shot by one of **your** people," Herschel didn't flinch, but he looked sick and barely swallowed past the feeling. "That same person who ended up dying trying to save his life, and all we want is a place to hold out until we are on our feet again."

Glen knew, rationally, that Rick wanted to stay put. Grounded. But that just seemed like a wet dream. A horrible, horrible wet dream.

Nothing was safe anymore. Glen hoped they were very, very far away from the Farm by the time it got overrun.

"Rick," Glen claimed. "No matter what you've talked to him about, isn't in charge anymore. I am. You need to go through me to get through to my group. Agreed?"

Herschel gave her a look she was very familiar with. Anger. Hate. It was boiling below the surface, as if he was afraid of it himself.

"As soon as you're able, I want you to move on."

Glen, of course agreed, but she only smiled as well, as she quoted what Rick had told her he had said.

"If you knew what was out there, you wouldn't be asking that of us."

Ever dramatic, feeling especially enigmatic, Glen turned and started to walk away. Hoping she had at least given him something to think on.

Probably not.

* * *

After that, Glen spent the better part of the afternoon with everyone 'learning' to shoot.

Or rather, she watched the farmers absolutely trounce those of the group who had never held a gun before. Amy and Carol mostly. Andrea at least looked like she knew what she was doing, until she pointed the gun at Shane while her finger was on the trigger - scaring the daylights out of everyone.

That had led to a good hour lecture about gun safety that Glen listened to earnestly and with good humor. Merle had beaten something similar into her head, but it had been a little more... memorable. Something about having a gun pointed at your head, right between your eyes, and slowly being cocked - well, it did something. The woman had never had a problem keeping her gun pointed ground-ward since then.

"And if I ever," Shane snarled, throwing his hand into the air for emphasis. "Ever, _ever_ , ever, **ever** \- see you doing something that stupid again, the only weapon you're getting your hands on is a _sharpened_ stick."

Andrea had paled long ago, colored again, been given graphic descriptions enough to pale her again - and was now just plain looking green.

"Got it." She said, meekly.

"Then we're done for the day." Shane said, dismissively turning away.

 _Ouch_. Glen winced in sympathy. That was cold. Especially for two people who were sleeping together.

Allegedly.

The farmers, Jimmy and Maggie smirking loudly, followed by Beth, all went off to do whatever they did. Chores probably. Carol and Amy discussed, a ways away, looking at Andrea with furtive glances, what they were going to cook and followed Beth off.

Which left Shane and RIck who were now far enough away that neither Glen nor Andrea could hear them and the two women themselves.

"Could have gone better." Glen said, straightening on her stump.

Andrea rolled her eyes, turning to where her 'leader' sat. "You think?" She said, sarcastically.

"Merle taught me all I know, so," Glen watched how Andrea's eyes widened decimally at that. "Yeah. Could have gone worse."

"... Well." Andrea said. "Shit."

"Tell me about it."

They were silent for a moment. Contemplative, again. Andrea was watching Shane and Rick, who were having what seemed to be a pleasant, easy conversation. How all their conversations had been since Shane had returned and Otis had died, really. Maybe they were even healing from Lori's untimely demise...

Shane tensed up.

 _Or not_. Glen thought, watching to see where that went.

"How'd that work, anyway?" Andrea asked, in a rare moment of true curiosity. Glen sighed, knowing that this was going to be the 'heart to heart' she didn't want.

"How'd _what_ work?"

"You and the Dixons."

_There it was._

"We worked because we didn't ask stupid questions."

Andrea quirked an eyebrow, looking like Amy's twin if nothing else, before shaking her head.

"That's bullshit."

Glen leaned back, wearily. Yet, Andrea wasn't looking at her. Not directly.

"And what - " Andrea asked, mockingly. "You guys would sit around a campfire and sing kumbi-yah? That's bullshit. I bet you guys argued every day." It looked like that thought comforted her.

"We did." Glen conceded and Andrea was the one pulling back and looking befuddled at that.

"What?"

"We did. We argued over everything. West. South. Water. Grandola bars. Cans of soup. Where to set up camp. How close to get to those people on the hill. When to shoot. The last can of pringles." Glen shrugged. "We argued over everything, but we were also smart enough to realize that everyone had their place. Their purpose."

Andrea stared again. Always with the staring. Either at her or Shane or Rick or anyone else who caught her fancy. Shane and Rick walked away, farther towards the house, and Andrea's head whipped around to track their movement. She bit on her lip.

"You think everyone's got a purpose here?" She whisper-asked.

"I don't know, Andrea," Glen answered, this time aggravatedly. "I've been madam president for like... twenty hours. Tops. This is the second longest commitment I've ever held."

That seemed to catch Andrea's attention.

"What was the first?"

Getting up, stretching, and wiping off her butt of woodchips, Glen told her. "Pizza Deliver woman, duh."

The Madam President walked away to Andrea chuffing, almost laughing, behind her.

_Well. That hadn't been_ _**too** _ _awful._

* * *

"Damn, Glen," Shane laughed, throwing his head back as they all sat around the campfire that night. "You're one badass woman."

Glen was sitting next to Daryl, the first time in a while since they'd spent the night in the house, that they'd been close enough to each other to really feel each other out. Both of them were taking a moment to just relax, but well, it was also story time. And since she'd become 'leader', _god that was_ _weird_ , they all wanted her to talk more. So, she'd just got done telling her entire camp what she had told Herschel earlier that afternoon.

"You didn't, Glen." Amy practically giggle-snorted.

T-Dawg was laughing uproariously. "What I wouldn't have given to have seen that!"

Carol and Rick shared a tight lipped smile, as if holding back their laughter from their children. Carl was looking better and better every day. So was Rick. Carol and Sophia had found a sort of rhythm to their life without Ed and both seemed happier every day Glen looked at them. Dale was the odd ball, though he was sitting in between Andrea and Amy at the moment, arms around the backs of their chairs.

"Gotta admit," Glen said, happy the darkness and the heat of the fire hid her blush. "Never did I ever think I was going to be dealing with anything like that on my first day as missus madam president."

That incited an entirely new wave of laughter, hooting and hollering.

Glen smiled and took that moment just to absorb all the good she'd gotten done. Even though they were all responsible for her problems.

 _Is this what it feels like to be surrounded by family?_ Glen wondered, watching Shane share a coy smile with Amy.

It was a strange sensation. Happiness.

Happiness like this was hard to come by.

* * *

For Daryl Dixon, leaving couldn't come soon enough. The longer they stayed on the farm, the crazier people got. Lazier too.

Hell, they'd had elections for christs sake. Glen had **won**.

Not that he was surprised. These people could only do worse if they picked anyone besides Glen. Just the fact that they had wanted an election in the first place... That wasn't survival speaking.

That was humanity speaking. Comfort. Ease.

Daryl didn't like it.

Daryl liked being on the same page as someone by action alone, words were useless when split-second actions determined if you survived the night or the morning or the next few seconds. It was why he spent most of his time out in the forest, clearing the Walker population steadily as a thank you to the Greene farm. Or that's what he liked to tell himself when people asked.

He didn't mention Jacqui.

Now, sitting at the fire, with Glen to his right and Shane to his left, he wasn't quite sure what to feel. Relief? Probably. Relaxation? Marginally.

Everything came in waves. Today, it was a wave of introspectulation. Everything reminded him of Merle and for that he was quieter for it. Meaner to T-Dawg when the man actually tried to talk to him. Easier with his cursing, even around the kids. More liberal with his crossbow.

And Glen... well, Glen had a wave all to her own. She was like the tide, holding him over. When they spoke, it wasn't conversations that felt hurried or needed or special. They were important, everything they spoke about had meaning, even if only to them. Greetings for the morning. Evening salutations. How they were doing. What they needed to improve on.

There was no fluff in the relationship he shared with Glen. It was raw. Nothing was hidden. It was needed.

It was... all he needed. Nobody else in camp could hold a candle to what Glen and Daryl provided all by their lonesome to their relationship.

It was best that way.

* * *

Amy and Andrea and the girls from the farm liked to talk. Glen had noticed they got together and did the odds and ends of the farm as they went about daily life. Never was she invited, which was a comfort, since well - girl talk? Who wanted girl talk out of her?

Nobody, thank god.

"Wanna join us?"

You know, until Amy thought to invite her.

"Doing what?" Glen asked dubiously.

"We're picking apples and just chattin'" Amy said, all smiles.

It was a rare moment in Glen's day where she actually didn't have anything going on. No people to talk to. No plans to develop. No provisions to sort. It was quiet and honestly, it was starting to bug her. Yet was she desperate enough to go with Amy and have 'girl time?'.

"It will be _fun_." Amy sing-songed. "Maggie said she'd bake an apple pie if we helped get in a good load."

Well, if there was going to be a reward for it.

"Sure." Giving a returning tight lipped smile that probably looked better on a lion.

* * *

So, two hours, a few hundred apples later; Glen was relieved to find there wasn't much talking. They worked hard and sweated like pigs, smiling encouraging at each other, but they didn't talk much.

Glen knew she had spoken too soon, when as soon as they took a break, going down to the small creek, Amy opened up. And open it up she did.

"Shane and I have been sleeping together but I don't know if he actually likes me or if he's doing it because Lori's gone."

Eyes wide open, Glen found she was actually shocked.

_What?_

"Sleeping with Shane?" Glen said and her voice was distinctly high pitched.

"Yeah." Amy nodded. "Started a little after we got here."

So when Shane was screwed up. And when he had started messing around with Andrea as well. If Glen's intution was right.

And it always was.

_Geesh, I hope they're at least using protection._

"Have you tried talking to him?" Maggie said, flicking a stone across the still water.

"Talk to Shane?" Amy huffed. "I'd have a better chance talking to a brick wall about the current state of the economy."

"You mean that economy that tanked as soon as people started rising from the dead?" Glen said without thinking.

Beth burst into a giggle that she immediately tried to shush with a hand over her mouth.

Amy slapped her shoulder, but her lips twitched.

"Seriously though," Glen found herself saying without considering what she was actually saying. "Shane is an asshole, we all know that. He probably doesn't have much emotion left in his body after everything that's happened. He is loyal and deadly and you could do worse."

"So you don't think it has anything to do with Lori?"

Glen snorted. "Shane and Rick are both fucked up from that one. I think Shane is fucked up from a lot more than that, though. I mean, how many people you think he killed? Directly? Indirectly?"

She never explicitly mentioned Otis, but everyone tensed up.

"So you're saying not to let it bother me?" Amy asked, face optimistic.

Glen shrugged.

"We are all fucked up. Every one of us. It's up to you. If you let that bother you, eventually you'll let everything bother you."

"Tht's kind of stupid," Beth said, quietly. Glen perked up and was ready to defend herself but Beth's sister did her damage better than Glen ever could.

"Beth, what do you know about these kinds of things?" Maggie scoffed.

Beth wilted into herself. Amy didn't noticed, because she was focused internally. Glen narrowed her eyes at the sisters interactions.

Beth blushed fiercely. "I know enough to know if the man's bein' a dick he doesn't deserve anyone."

Maggie rolled her eyes and playfully said, "Whatever you say."

And she didn't even noticed how the poor girl collapsed within herself.

They talked about nonsense after that. Well, it was all nonsense to Glen, but this was just more of the same. More boy problems, not just Shane, but also Dale and Hershel. They talked of Rick and poor, poor Carl and if Daryl came up in conversation, quick, shy but smug glances were thrown Glen's way. The farmers really weren't allowed off the reservation much, as it was. Maggie went off a few times alone to get supplies (which don't even get Glen started on how stupid that was), but that was really it.

As they were going back to the orchard, Glen passed Beth but not before saying, "For what it's worth, you're right. Men who don't know what they have can go shove off."

Beth stumbled and fumbled, stopping for all of a second, but Glen was already off, into the thick trees.

* * *

The next day, Beth broke up with Jimmy.

It was rather public affair since nothing was private on that little strip of land. Herschel had apparently not known and been a quiet seething puddle. And Glen felt only a sliver of responsibility, even as she walked with a pep to her step _everyone_ noticed.

* * *

It took a week. Glen was surprised, after the fact, of course, that it took that long.

One week of relative peace and quiet.

The boiling point came when everything came out into the open. Secrets. Well hidden or not.

It had been a week of powerplays between Herschel, his farm, and the group. Herschel's people wanted to learn to shoot, so Glen had instructed Shane to teach them (geesh that still sounded awkward). The old man had gotten pissed and basically told Glen: "Don't talk to my people without permission."

 _Which, fuck you very much old man_ , Glen couldn't help but think.

It had kind of boiled down into downright looking-down-his-nose at her. Reminding her at every turn that they would be leaving soon, as soon as possible. Rick wasn't happy with that. Neither was Shane or Carol or Andrea. Each having someone they wanted to protect with their life. so that was basically the whole group against leaving. Glen had told everyone that they could take it up with Herschel, and most all of them did. In one capacity or the next.

Which lead to the barn.

All she knew was that Andrea and a few people from the farm had gone on a supply run to town and had come back looking no worse for wear, except the blond had looked wide-eyed and shifty. The farmer's daughter, Maggie, staring at her every now and again. Glen picked up on the awkwardness but left it that.

Steadily, she was learning that leaving these people to their own devices spelled trouble.

And she was right as Andrea came to her, pale and shaking, and told her what Maggie had told her.

"A barn. Full of Walkers." Glen said, faintly sick to her stomach just thinking of something that stupid and hare-brained.

Andrea only nodded. "Maggie, she didn't want to tell me but it kind of slipped out when we were battling off the Walker in the store and then she just kind of collapsed. Crying." Andrea even looked uncomfortable at the thought.

"Did she say why they're keeping them?"

Andrea winced. "She called them mom and dad and... Shawn."

_And shit, didn't that just take the cake?_

Before those walkers had become walkers, they had been human. They had been breathing, living people. They had been family. For the Greenes, they still were.

And no matter how misguided the farmers were, that wasn't something that could just be confirmed or denied.

Glen tugged her hair out of her ponytail before reconstructing it. Nervously, her fingers ran through her hair as she tried to think of a response. Tried to think her way around something that wasn't just solved with a punch to the face, with direction and guidance, with anything the rest of the group would respond to.

"They think there is a cure." Andrea added, her eyes watery. "Maggie kept... she kept - "

Andrea looked away. Glen couldn't tell if it was because she was disturbed or if she was angry or what.

"There is no cure." Glen said dispassionately, and realized at the same moment, she had decided on her next course of action.

Tell the others.

But first, she had to tell Daryl.

* * *

It was easy to get him alone. It always was. He wasn't exactly shy, but he would rather be away from people if at all possible. So, walking the fence for the past five minutes got her closer to him than if she had just called for him. Sometimes, she wondered if he forgot his name when he went back to nature.

"What?" Was his usual greeting, his back to her, as he watched the horizon.

"They've got a barn full of Walkers."

The way his shoulders stiffened made Glen remember just how impatient she really was. When he didn't turn around immediately, she continued. "They think of 'em like people. Like, their' people."

"Fuck." The redneck cursed, wiping at his forehead before turning around.

"Yeah."

"How many?"

"Don't know."

"... Where?"

"The barn. The one they haven't let us near."

He gazed at her speculatively.

"Ya haven't told anyone else?"

Glen shrugged, feeling older. "Andrea told me. Maggie apparently spilled after they got attacked by a Walker in the store."

"So... what's tha question?" Daryl asked.

"You're too perceptive," Glen smiled, before collapsing onto the tree next to her, sliding down to the ground. "I've got to tell the group, cause you know, I'm responsible for those sorry idiots. They voted me in. Which, well, isn't that fucked up? I'm like five or six years younger than Shane and Rick. I may be the youngest person besides the kids and they want me to tell **them** what to do."

"Yer not a kid. You know what you're talking about."

Glen shoved her head in her hands. "I don't feel like it."

"You do, Glen, you do."

They sat in companionable silence after that. Daryl keeping watch as Glen contemplated all she was about to do.

"I've got to tell them, but I really don't want to."

"Sounds like the story of our life."

"How do I even bring something like this up?"

"Oh, I don't know." Daryl said, slyly. "You could be blunt and open like always."

And then he smiled.

* * *

Following his advice was almost fun. Except it wasn't. And telling them... well, that hadn't been fun either. Their faces as she had gathered them all, varying degrees of annoyance at being taken from their assigned tasks. Sleep. Guard duty. You name it. The only ones not present being the children.

"What's this about?" Carol asked, wringing her hands, as if she had heard something within Glen's own voice. A warning. Which, if anyone knew what to watch in people's tone, it would be her.

Glen took only a moment to look at Daryl, remembering their conversation, and he nodded once, as if to encourage her.

"There are Walker's in the barn."

And everyone's gaze snapped to hers, eyes wide.

"But I don't... know if they're necessarily dangerous."

"You don't know if - "

Glen hurried to intercept anything they said. "They think of them as family. They think there is a cure."

Rick spoke then, clutching Carl to him.

"They keep 'em in the barn, hoping for a cure."

Everyone turned to him.

"Herschel said they weren't harming nobody and that it was like AID's. Everyone used to freak out over it and now it was just a medical problem." Which was wrong, but Glen didn't have the know how to tell Rick he was wrong. AID's killed people. Like guns and poison and just about anything on the planet. To eradicate it would be the kind thing for everyone involved.

"You knew?" Glen demanded, turning on the man.

"I found out. Heard the noises. Got curious." Rick looked increasingly pale. "Herschel confronted me and told me all about it. I chose to keep it a secret cause it wasn't our problem... we're leaving soon anyway, aren't we?"

_And what the fuck was that supposed to mean? A Walker was a Walker._

"And you didn't think to warn us?" Dale demanded, agog.

Amy snarled, completely out of character. "How could you not tell _us_? There are monsters living within a five minute walk of us!"

Andrea didn't say anything but stood behind her sister like a menacing shadow.

Shane couldn't look Rick in the eyes, chewing on nothing, his jaw working furiously.

"I... It wasn't my place." Rick said, weakly. And it was clear to Glen then, he still didn't get it. He'd lost Lori. He'd almost lost Carl. And yet, he still didn't get it.

This wasn't a game. This wasn't the law. This wasn't anything that could be reasoned with. This was something you could only do one thing with: Eradicate it.

"Well, it's your place now." Glen snarled. "Spill."

She must have looked a picture, because Rick gulped.

* * *

_And there we are. Next chapter over and done with :) Tune in next time for Walker deaths, people figuring out that other people are sleeping with their partner, and I don't know - a cute moment or two betwen Daryl and Glen? Ok. Who am I kidding, I was like smiling goofily the whole time I was writing it._


	16. Lead a Herschel to water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can we all just agree I don't need to beat a dead horse over and over again? Good. Cause the whole walker-barn fiasco is going to be a quick little blip on this stories radar. You all have watched the TV show, you know its a mess. The gore doesn't appeal to me at the moment. Another thing, figuring out pregnancy weeks and all that in this story is exhausting! Like morning sickness apparently starts 4-6 weeks, NOT the day after or week after, and then after that just everything goes wrong. Why is it called morning sickness then? Is it relegated to just the morning?
> 
> I didn't know these things. I've never had a baby! Though I have looked into fostering and stuff... but that's another issue for another time.
> 
> Also, just wanted to thank everyone for their support! :) This stories gotten quite a few follows and favorites and so thank you! I wouldn't be writing this without some kind of support from you all. The reviews don't hurt either. 
> 
> ~Now to mutually assured destruction~

 

 

So, two week from their arrival, a day after their talk, they were here.

" _ **No**_!" Maggie screamed, being held back by Jimmy. Beth stood stock still, staring, white, pale.

"Stop!" Patricia yelled, grabbing at Carol's arm. "Stop! Please, no, no no, you don't want to do this! Please." The mother looked at Otis' late wife and could only frown, sadly. Yet she didn't budge. She didn't do anything but frown at her. Holding her up.

The clearing was filled with pleas and desperation.

The sound alone should have had stopped the group in its tracks. Should have made everyone shiver or quake down to their cores. Should have had Shane, Rick, and at the very least Daryl pulling back - but nobody did. Everyone was resolute. No compasion. The time for compassion was past. Everyone firm and guided by their own moral compass or lack thereof. Andrea and Amy, firearms and knives at the ready. Shane and Rick and T-Dawg at the ready. Dale. Glen herself.

_Why?_

There were walkers in the barn.

There were man-eating monsters close to their group, to the children, a threat to their very survival. The farmers had tried to 'reason with the group' to no avail. Glen thought it was pathetic, how they tried to defend the dead, but also honorable in a way. If not the stupidest thing since the apocalypse started.

What made it worse was that nobody knew how many were in the barn. What made the fear that much more... _potent_.

The farmers made a huge racket, yet none of them _truly_ attacked the group. It was telling. They wanted the Walkers to stay, but they weren't going to risk their lives for them. Which... spoke of a lot more sanity than Glen had thought they were dealing with.

Shane yanked out the chain keeping the door closed before tearing the huge barn doors open.

A groan. A moan. Then. Here they came. Mottled faces. Slow pace. Staggering, the stench awful.

Even from downwind, Glen smelled it.

When she and her people opened fire, the Walkers didn't make much of a sound as they died again and again - no, that was all on the people.

* * *

"I want you and your group gone." Herschel spat at them, holding his dead wife to him, in his lap.

"Got it." Glen said, wiping her knife against the jacket of one of the dead. Just a kid with a nametag. 'Earl' it said. "We'll be gone as soon as we pack up camp. A day. Maybe a few hours."

Maggie held Beth and glared at Andrea as if she had personally stabbed her mother through the face. But Glen knew that was a lie, because Daryl had shot that one. Glen had watched which Walkers had gone where, and which had looked like the family photos, and also how many there had been.

The last number had been nine.

A small number, but really any number of Walkers was a herd, and any herd was a danger.

Feeling weak, Glen closed her eyes momentarily as she thought, _And the ninth Walker had been the kicker, too, hadn't it?_

Even if that sucker punch hadn't been the worst thing of the evening.

Glen could still remember the shock. The silence that had filled the clearing as Jacqui herself walked out, face half gnawed off, mangy, and with her shirt all torn up. No gunshot wound to the head.

Seemed like she had failed.

It was T-Dawg that rose to the occasion, walking forward and stabbing her straight through the face. The body crumbling, and with it a few of their members of their group as they mourned, again, for one they had lost.

"You had her." Andrea snarled at the farmers in the clearing.

"I swear we didn't - " Maggie began, shaking her head as she noticed that that last Walker hadn't been one of their own.

Amy cut her off - "How could you not know?!"

The noise level was crazily high as Amy and Andrea and Dale and T-Dawg all faced off against the farmers. And their slights, imagined or real, Glen didn't know. Glen didn't know many things at the moment. Breathing in deeply, long detached from the smell of blood and guts and gun fire and knives, Glen let herself be pulled into her own head.

She'd killed these Walkers knowing that they were _important_ to these people. Maggie and Beth and Hershel with the woman and man. Patricia with Otis and whoever else had been in that barn. Jimmy. The number of people who had been affected was small yet it hit Glen that it mattered. They mattered.

_Didn't it? Didn't they?_

Glen didn't know how to answer, so she didn't.

She got up. She started walking. Her pace steady. Her pace easy. One foot in front of the other. Glen walked away from the group, from the farm, towards the highway, and soon enough she had gathered a following once she'd gotten past the fence and (sensibly her mind supplied) closed the gate behind her.

It started with one coming from the forest, then another. Soon she had a small gaggle. Three.

Walkers. They kept up with her.

It was as easy as 1, 2, -

_Sqqrrchhhhquick_

3.

Daryl found her almost two miles away, walking down the road, a smattering of Walker bodies fallen behind her haphazardly. Easy to track. There had to be at least ten of them, but all of them were too slow to attack the woman. Too slow. Too uncoordinated.

And no matter how lost she was within herself, to die was cowardice.

"Got the group cleanin' up." Daryl said in greeting about the same time Glen's knife entered a Walker's temple. "Most are pissed about Jacqui. Don't know why. She'wanted ta die."

The body dropping.

"Hmm." She hummed, wiping her hand on her pant leg. She startled only a moment as she realized all the blood and brain matter she already had on her cargos. _When had that gotten there?_

"Waiting on you ta get back. Then we'll leave."

 _Hmm._ She said, this time internally, as she began walking again.

This time, Daryl just joined her pace and worked to subtly lead her in a circle, not stopping her, not pushing, not doing anything. Just getting her back on track to go home.

* * *

Glen was becoming more and more like Merle. Or. Maybe she had always been and he was just now seeing it.

Daryl noticed it the second week after he had 'rescued' her from herself. Yet it just became more and more clear as the world continued to spin, as they continued to survive, as they continued on doing what they needed to do. Glen was Merle, but without the horrible racism, the bad skin, with hair, and slightly nicer.

_Slightly._

They both were stubborn, hotheaded, and managed to get themselves addicted to what it felt like without pain. Addicted to numbness, an idea that Daryl had always hated. To feel numb was to feel alone and without and Daryl didn't need that. He didn't need nobody to tell him anything and he wasn't about to just give in to his body's wants and needs. Hadn't for a while.

And, sure, Merle had used drugs and alcohol and women to get his numbness, but was that much different than retreating inside your own mind?

Daryl didn't think so.

So he did as he had always done with Merle. He waited. Patient. He followed. He made sure Glen didn't accidentally walk off a cliff, stumble on a hoard of Walkers, or somehow get herself killed. What he kept back with Glen when she was like this - was the stream of constant curses. It was somewhat of a pattern, something easy to fall into. With Merle it had been finding him in bars (or outside them), pick him up from a woman's place as the husband came outside with a shotgun, or in an alley, needle still lodged in his arm.

Glen though, she was silent and didn't fuss much when she got like this.

While Glen was lost within herself, he'd made sure she didn't lose herself outside. Where reality was less kind.

"How'd the farmers react?" Glen asked, about the time Daryl reached for the gate to unlock it.

He didn't hesitate as he went through the motions. "About how we thought they would. Flipped their shit. Younger one locked herself in the bathroom. Andre and Amy think they killed Jacqui, or saved her and let her turn or whatever,"

He shrugged as Glen went ahead of him.

"Huh. Shit." True, genuine worry showing from deep underneath her shitshow.

And that was how he knew she was back with him. He continued to explain what he knew, how everyone was just waiting for her to get back.

* * *

Carol dragged the next body onto the pile in front of the barn. It had been decided that they would burn the bodies. At least, the bodies of those who had been no-names. Had just been picked up and 'cared' for by the farmers. Jacqui and the other family members were going to be buried.

The children were with Amy in the Rv. T-Dawg was helping her, because it was a fairly easy job. Just dragging dead bodies around. Shane, Andrea, and Rick were getting wood and other strappings for a fire. Dale was checking over the Rv to make sure it was ready for lift off.

Sniffing, trying not to gag on the smell, Carol straightened up and stretched.

It was hard work. But it was rewarding. Carol was finding that keeping her thoughts straight, keeping her mind focused, was the only way not to remember her late husbands face, or the fear she had felt when Sophia had been taken by Glen into the forest. Or any other horrible memory she had repressed. If not for her sake, then for her daughters.

"Been a damn crazy day," T-Dawg said, shaking his head as he flopped a body, kicked an arm, onto the pile.

"Tell me about it." Carol said sardonically.

They both stared at the pile.

"You know I had kind of hoped that Jaqui would think twice about trying to off herself." The black man said as they both leaned against the barn. Carol stiffened.

"It was her choice." She tried to say confidently. But it was hard. Because Carol wasn't that great at being sympathetic to choices that lead to crappy lifestyles. She'd had her fair share of them, after all. Ed being what he had been.

"Still was fucked up." T-Dawg snorted.

Carol didn't say anything, only shook her head as she saw Rick and Shane coming over the bend with wood.

 _But, it was her choice_. And if there was one thing Carol couldn't quite grasp, was killing herself. Sure there had been times when she'd felt hopelessly trapped and knew death would be the only way out, but she'd never thought of doing the deed herself. What would that do to Sophia, after all? Who would take care of her?

Ed? Fat chance of that. Carol would have sooner killed Sophia first and then followed swiftly after before allowing that.

Carol froze as she realized what she had just thought.

Closing her eyes, she counted backwards from ten. Then forwards.

The end of the word was really getting to her.

_Don't let it eat you up inside. Do what you gotta do._ _**Survive** _ _._

_Just like you always have, Carol. Just like you always will._

* * *

As the flames burn and the heat became blistering, Rick had his first moment after his son was shot to really feel sick to his stomach. They'd caused this. This pain. This despair. Only, they also hadn't. Because if they hadn't taken down these Walkers (the farms people and Jacqui) then it could have gone wrong later. What were the farmers against a group this size?

He didn't know.

Furthermore, Rick still wasn't sure about how the world worked anymore.

After Lori had died, it hadn't quite sunk in that that wasn't the worst thing to happen to them. It had felt like the world had fallen in. But then he'd voted to leave Jimmy on the side of the road, and Carl had been shot, and now they'd committed this attack against the people of the farm that had been 'kind' enough to allow them to say.

And now, the world was starting to make sense.

"You all'right?" Shane asked next to him, breaking another stick and throwing it into the flames.

"Thinking."

Shane looked sheepish and young when he grinned. "Dangerous."

Some of the sickness in his stomach left. Not enough, but enough to matter.

"Is this what we are now?"

Shane stopped smiling, looking solemnly into the fire.

"Are we just murders? Killers?"

"They weren't people anymore, you know that." Shane said, shaking his head, grabbing Ricks shoulder. Shaking him lightly. "They were rotted and needed to be put down. We did what needed to be done."

He looked so earnest. So intent, Rick couldn't help but nod and agree. "Yeah. But it still doesn't feel right."

"I think," Shane hesitated, his fingers digging into Rick's shoulder as he stared into the flames. "I think that's alright. It's when we stop thinking, when we stop feeling, I think that's when we're gonna be in trouble."

Rick felt himself relax. So Shane did understand.

"Because what's the point of being alive if you aren't living." It was something they'd used to say. Before he had gotten married. Before his promotion. Before anything serious had happened in their lives.

"You still feel?" Rick asked, abruptly, cause no matter how much people thought he had been obsessed and drowning in his own sorrows, he knew what Shane looked like normal. And Shane hadn't been normal. Not for a while.

"I feel." He nodded. Tensed.

"But do you _feel_?"

Shane didn't answer right away. Which was fine with Rick. It gave him time to watch. To watch how all the emotions danced across his face.

"Not like I used to." Shane admitted. "After Lori..."

It always came back to Lori. No matter what they were talking about. It always came back to her.

"And Carl... I don't know. I just don't have any fucks to give anymore. Like I only got a few and I'm not willing to waste them on stupid shit."

Rick was confused but he nodded, showing his solidarity with Shane. "Then we're still human."

Shane laughed, once.

"What's human anymore, Rick?" He shook his head at Rick's befuddled expression. "What's human worth if you're dead the next day, or the next hour? Sure, we're human, but good luck figuring out whats going for us."

And Rick didn't know how to answer.

* * *

"We can't leave." Rick is the one who says it first. But based on how Carol and Shane and T-Dawg back him - Glen knows he's not the only one wanting to say it.

_Aww hell._

Glen has been back at camp for all of ten minutes. Enough time to change her pants and grab a can of beans.

"And why the fucking hell not?" Glen asks, as she settles against one of the logs around their campfire. She thinks she smells rain but quickly dismisses it. They hadn't had rain in a while. Which, well, that meant they were due some. "Carl's getting better ever day, we've got food and supplies to last us, and we've got nothing but the open road."

Dale, Amy, and Andrea sit opposite the fire. "Herschel doesn't want us here."

"We have to respect that," Dale nodded, with a shrug.

"We're safe here." Rick said, standing firm. "And Carl may be better but... well - "

Being firm.

Glen took a look at him, really looked, because it had been a while since she'd seen that look on his face. When they had been planning in Atlanta. When Lori and he had seen each other, and Rick knew he had to go help out Merle.

The man looked pale, still getting over all the blood loss, yet he did not waver. He hadn't shaved in a while, but somehow that made him look more childish than older or wiser. And he stared at her as if he wasn't going to back down.

_Damnit, why now of all times to grow a backbone?_

Glen took a moment to glance at Carol and the children, who usually kept out of her way most days. Carl was looking better. More color to his face every day, no longer did he wince, and he was generally just a kid again. It was more than past time to stop using him as an excuse to stay.

"No place is safe," Andrea said, sitting on the other side of Glen. "Being here just makes it... seem like it's safe. Know what I mean?"

Amy scowled next to her. "That's stupid, by that logic, we should leave every single place we get to!"

"Yeah, and what makes this place the best?"

"There have been no Walker attacks since we got here." Carol pointed out.

Shane added. "Maybe even ever."

Dale shook his head.

"We never asked. Plus, there had to be a few if they lost a few of their own."

"Listen," Glen said, picking up some dirt and rubbing it gingerly into her shirt, the blood stains sticking to her. Hoping it helped to mask the blood. It didn't. New shirt it was. "We're leaving. They don't want us here. It's not safe. Even if it was safe, its not our choice."

"But - "

"We're leaving."

"I agree with her." Dale said, getting a likewise humm from Andrea. "It's not safe anywhere. And sooner or later, a pack like what we dealt with is gonna come. It's gonna come and its gonna wipe this place off the map."

Everyone looked contemplative. Amy didn't say anything, but she did look at the big house, where all the lights were on and the silence was deafening. Dale stared at Andrea the entire time, and Glen felt as if he wanted to say something else, but they all were interrupted by ex-sheriff's-partner.

"I think it's a bad idea." Shane said, throwing his hands up as if he were admitting a big secret. Rubbing his jaw he continued. "This place is fenced in. They got acres on acres. We're as safe here as we're gonna be anywhere - "

He would have continued ranting, Glen knew him, so she cut him off.

"Huh, like the camp?"

Everyone froze. Shane looked angry and disgusted. "The camp was different. It wasn't fenced in -"

"And yet, that same thing could happen here. What's a door to a Walker?" Glen was still far too empty to feel angry, but she snarled. "They know how to open doors dumbass! They're human in all the ways that don't matter and all the ways they could **never** matter."

Carol covered Sophia's ears. The young girl looked aggravated at it, clearly knowing the Glen had a potty mouth.

"It's going to rain." Dale said, suddenly, looking over all their shoulders to the horizon.

That effectively cut the mood in half.

"So we'll stay until it passes." Glen said with a shrug, finishing her beans that she'd been shoveling when she wasn't ranting. "Easy. Rain won't last more than a few hours. Then, we pack up. We're leaving."

"In the rain?"

"After." Glen promises.

* * *

It rained for three days. Straight.

 _Fuck,_ Glen thought. _What could be worse?_

The farmers stayed inside the house, coming out onto the wrap around porch occasionally and tending to their cows and chickens (all which seemed to multiply as the Walkers from the barn rotted elsewhere). The group stayed in the RV, leaving only for the necessary things like going to the bathroom, getting something from the other car, or fixing the tarp over the motorcycle.

It was days of just sitting, talking, arguing, cuddling in blankets, and revelation. Glen had wanted to leave immediately, but the roads just got more and more dangerous with the rain.

* * *

The first day, Rick had brought up talking to the farmers. Hoping to talk Glen into staying. Coerc her as best he could. But he'd been out of that game for a long, long time. He was rusty and at least semi-amusing. Any kind of seducing he had inside him needed work.

Her answer at the time had been a hell no and to not bring it up again.

He had let it go and then Glen had resolutely stayed away from the children and the idiots. Which, left her, with Amy. And that, that was not a much better position. Because all Amy wanted to do was talk. And Glen didn't want to talk.

Which nobody seemed to get. So instead, she took many, many naps, pretending, in her awake moments, to be asleep with her eyes closed. It was peaceful and nice. Only once did someone else join her, but Glen didn't care who it was because she had just been about to nod off. She woke up to eat and to keep watch, relieving Rick.

* * *

Rick hadn't slept well the night before and decided to take a nap. Only, the bed he had chosen was already occupied. By Glen. Sleeping soundly. She looked oddly young, and that was when Rick realized he didn't even know how old the woman was. She mentioned college and never finishing it, but that was really it as for life milestones. That didn't disturb him as much as it probably would have, before the world had tilted on its axis, but still. It also was strange to know sleeping in the same bad as another woman, who wasn't his wife, wasn't even frowned upon by this group of people.

Him included.

Not really trying to have an existential crisis Rick crawled in silently and laid on his back. Glen didn't twitch. Her breath even. He hoped she wasn't awake. That would be awkward.

Or... would it?

Everyone could see that Daryl and Glen were two peas of the same pod, somehow, but Rick occasionally found himself wondering if they were all wrong. If everyone in the group was just seeing the front they put up.

Glen was smart, strong, and not so easy to get along with. But who wasn't these days? Even Rick had his moments as he tried to get used to the world and how the world now was. Mean was now right and right was power. And he didn't even want to get into the fact that she was attractive. Probably the most attractive of everyone in their group save Maggie, but she was the farmer's.

So. Glen.

Rick didn't feel like having any kind of romantic relationship with anyone, but at the very least with Glen, he could see a future. It didn't have to be sexual. It didn't have to be anything more than a partnership. Yet. Rick felt that together, they could change, if not the world, than their circumstances.

He fell asleep trying to plan everything, but didn't even get past planning to find a place to settle down.

After they were done, here, at the farm, at least the world was their oyster.

* * *

The second day, Rick tried again, this time not taking no for an answer and arguing with her for over an hour about it.

"Why?" Rick asked, again, stubbornly.

"Because I said so." Glen finally spat, fed up with the direction of the conversation.

"That's not a reason and you know it."

"I've already given you numerous reasons," Glen defended. "They hate us. We're a shit ton of people, that would be resources and draining theirs. See? Reasons!You just don't _accept_ any of them."

"Exactly, so... new plan."

He was smiling as if he'd won.

Glen relented because after an hour of this, and Amy's sad little puppy dog face staring at her, and the children all staring moppily out the window - if she could give them even a little bit of happiness, a moment of relief, wasn't that worth it?

"Fine. I'll talk." Rick's face went slack with shock and she was quick to amend. "But you're coming with me. You'll explain everything to the old fart and - NO promises! Ok, I promise nothing."

She continued, seeing the inane and stupid smiles on everyone's faces.

"And only if he decides to talk to us, first!"

But that, that had been enough for everyone.

* * *

The first few days it was everyone arguing over whether to stay or go. Then it was food. Then it was shelter. Then it was which cars should they pick up, did anyone know what had the best gas mileage, and what color would be best (black was unanimously decided)? And the children had wanted to know when they could go outside and play and why couldn't they go into the house and other childreny-questions.

The newest and freshest drama was when Amy and Andrea both had figured out that _each_ had managed to sleep with Shane within days of each other. Which lead to a screaming match that had lead to Shane sitting, jaw clenched, as Amy slapped Andrea and stomped out of the Rv into the freezing Rain. Dale had followed, eyes downcast in shock, with a raincoat.

Daryl trailed, shoulders tensed, and Glen knew it wasn't to follow them but rather to just get the hell out of the RV.

She envied him that freedom.

"Well," Rick said, struck dumb as the silence echoed through the RV after the fact.

"That's a pretty fucked up thing to do, Shane," T-Dawg said, and in rare wisdom imparted these words to the ex-cop. "If you're gonna have a sidechick, the least you could do is choose someone not related to your girl."

Glen had a moment where she wanted to slap the black man, but held it in because - who else would there have been? Her? Maggie or Beth?

Which brought up another question.

"Which one's the side chick?" Carol asked, closing off the curtain to the loft where the children were 'napping'. They didn't need to hear anything else, after all.

"I don't know." Shane said, hand dragged through his short hair. "Both just kind of happened and it wasn't hurting nobody and - "

"And you thought they wouldn't mind sharing you?" Glen snorted.

No response.

Of course not. Dumb ass.

"You know what, I honestly don't care - like really _**do not care**_. This is your problem Shane," She jabbed a finger into his chest. "Try and convince them to be a little less public about it, maybe?"

"I'm standing right here," Andrea said, but her voice was small, as she rubbed her cheek, staring off into the outside world.

Carol patted her shoulder.

* * *

And that had been just that afternoon. Everyone was still prickly and when Amy had returned with Dale, both looked like drowned kittens. Shane nor Andrea nor Amy looked at each other, each staking out places on different places in the RV. Shane upfront in the passenger seat, Amy in the loft with the kids, and Andrea with Dale, talking in low voices.

Glen still wasn't sure if that whole relationship was more fatherly or like... call me 'Daddy'. Based on Shane, she thought maybe the first, but honestly - She didn't want to know either.

These were the reasons she tried not to get involved with their personal lives. It just got messy.

"We need to talk to them." Andrea finally said, throat scratchy.

"The farmer's?" Dale asked. Their voices had picked up and now everyone listened shamelessly.

"Yeah. I want... I want to see if we can open up the channel of communication."

They kind of all looked at their leader and Glen tried not to look at any of them. It had been decided she would at least _try_ and fight for them to stay, but she was still opposed to it, so... Rick. He would be her wingman in this. He and Herschel got alone, were on the same page, it would help.

Hell, maybe it would even work.

Glen rolled her eyes. "Tell Herschel I'll talk. I'll even bring Rick."

And they all beamed at her.

When Daryl came inside, also soaking wet but smelling more like a wet dog, Andrea made her escape, and walked to the house. The children all clambered to a window to watch. And Shane perked up long enough see Andrea knock, before looking away.

* * *

"You wanted to talk, so talk."

Glen took a moment to watch Herschel carefully.

Everyone looked like a mess, that was true and not just because of the rainstorm outside, but Hershel looked emaciated. He was a pretty decently built guy, so seeing the sagging and the weariness, it was unsettling.

"You don't like talking to me," Glen said, nodding to the ex-sheriff on her right. "So Rick here is going to take my place."

"Huh." The older man said, but his eyes flickered, almost too fast, to the man in Glen's group.

Whatever, Glen thought, rolling her eyes.

"We tried to tell you," Rick said, squaring his jaw and fidgeting on the couch. "Walkers are dead, and if you let them, they'll kill you, too. You have - had," Maggie, who was to Herschel's side breathed hard. "A barn full of walkers. My people... My people couldn't stay or leave knowing that no matter what happens to you and your family - those Walkers could never get out to bite anyone else."

And it was silent as Rick said his piece, which Glen thought was almost too sappy and save-the-world for her, but it seemed to roll well with the family.

Maggie sat next to her father, arms leaning on her knees as she stared at the floor. Herschel himself was locked with Rick in the stare-down of the week. Jimmy and Patricia were nowhere to be found. And yet, it was always Beth who managed to capture Glen's attention.

The girl was pale, like Hershel and Maggie, but she was also hunched in on herself, small as a breadbox, and she had a huge bandage on her wrist. It was pristine white, but that didn't mean shit, only that it was being cleaned. Herschel opened his mouth to finally say something but Glen beat him to it.

"What'd you do?" Glen asked, waiting for the girl to snap her focus onto her, before nodding her chin at her wrist.

The girl pulled her arm closer to herself, as if to protect it. "Nothin'."

"Yeah, I believe that." Glen said with hard eyes, but an ever increasingly softening heart.

There were many reasons for a bandage. Clumsiness, yet Beth didn't strike her as anything less than just shy (she'd seen the woodpile). A Walker bite, but in that case, she'd have a fever or be dead already. Or, self inflicted. Which, well didn't that just make sense?

"It got too much?"

Beth froze solid for a long while, staring at Glen like she was ashamed and afraid and timid and too many things wrapped together. Rick and Herschel and Maggie were now looking between the both of them, probably all wondering what the hell this would accomplish.

"Your group killed my mother." Beth said in a whisper but it had more fire than Glen though the girl would have been able to manage.

Glen's lips twitched.

"We didn't kill her. She died when she got bit. It's how everyone dies. Then they come back and they go chomping at their loved ones. We just got rid of the disease." Glen leaned back into her chair, keeping eye contact with the girl. "And you can believe that, or you can believe that we really murdered her. Either way, I'm not sorry for doing it."

Glen paused before continuing.

"I am sorry it had to be done."

And there was the fear and the uncertainty and the hatred and - ahh that's what it was. Hatred. Mean and ugly and it didn't fit the girl but it was real and poor Beth was feeling it. Feeling it more strongly than she'd ever felt anything.

"I didn't get to say goodbye."

Glen snorted, but rose and walked to the small couch she was seated on, taking a seat next to her.

Beth shied away like an unbroken horse.

"And you thought we did?" Beth flinched back. "You think Rick got a chance to say goodbye before Lori turned and tore him and his son apart? Before he had the chance to decide he had to put a bullet in her brain so she didn't come back? You think Dale had a chance when his wife was taken by cancer? Before the dead started coming back?"

Now what little attention had been paid to Glen and Beth's conversation was now laser-focused and agog.

"Hey, now - " Maggie said, getting up, to coe physically between the two.

" - Please shut the fuck up, Maggie." Glen said, and she tried to ask it nicely but she just didn't do that kind of thing anymore. The please was just a formality. "You're sister tried to kill herself. And you're sitting there like she's justified in doing it."

Herschel hadn't moved an iota, but he said, as calm as ever, as dead as ever, as numb as ever:

"And we've discussed it."

"Discussed it?" Glen scoffed. "Like you discussed your wife's death? Like you discussed your son's death? Like you discussed Otis's death?"

Herschel's eyes were pits of darkness that Glen had no trouble falling into, pulling herself out was easy, too.

"Like you've discussed all the pain in this shitty-ass world?"

Glen took that moment to rise from her seat, feeling the need to pace, to wring her hands through her hair. So she did, she got behind the couch, enough room to really pace, and let them all have it.

"Fuck, you once told me you people were people of faith," Maggie and Hershel both flinched back bodily at that, but Beth looked intense and actually curious about what she was going to say. "Isn't that enough? Or are you all really going to tell me one giant fucked up situation has you questioning everything?"

Nobody said a word.

"And if faith isn't enough, isn't your family? These people in this room? Isn't that enough to fight the fucking darkness that is everywhere else? To beat it back so you don't get pulled under?"

"You've lost people?" Beth asked.

Glen snorted. "I wasn't with my family or my boyfriend when everything went to shit. Didn't stick around to see them out. Worst thing I've ever done, bar none. I've lost and found about just as much as anyone else has. Hell. maybe even more."

Herschel didn't relax back or take a deep cleansing breath, he stayed even.

"And that's your argument."

Maggie and Beth stared at him.

Glen snorted. "It's not an argument." Looking at Rick for the first time, she directed her comment at him, more than anyone else. "It's an acknowledgement that the world is fucked, but I refuse to be fucked back. If the world will end, then I will go down swinging."

And the room was silent.

"Is it really that bad out there?" Maggie asked, hands clenched in front of her, not looking at anyone. No one was stupid enough to think she meant outside in the rain.

"Anything you've got in that brain of yours," Rick said, finally coming into the conversation. "Any idea or notion of hell - take that and multiply that by ten. Then you'll have an inkling of an idea."

"You can stay."

It was Beth who spoke. Who's timid voice reached about the silence and the mind-spaces of the adults.

"Beth!" Maggie half-shouted half-squeaked. Herschel looked just as flummoxed, yet his mouth was clamped shut.

"If these people felt an inch of what I felt outside our fence," Beth hissed, getting up. "I don't see why we should force them to leave."

"That's not your decision to make, Beth." Hershel said.

Beth exploded then. Like a star going nova.

"I'm just as much a part of this family as Maggie!"

Maggie and Herschel's faces didn't change. That is to say they kept the jaw-dropped, eyes marginally wide, stare.

"There are three of us, not just you dad." Beth continued. "And you keep saying you're making the best choices but I don't even _believe_ that anymore."

Glen couldn't help but wonder how long this had been building up, because the longer Beth spoke, the louder she got.

"What about the christian lifestyle tells us we need to throw these people out? What about our lifestyle, says it? When did we become those people dad? When did we - when did I - ?"

"Beth..."

"No! When did it all become to much? When did we all become cowards?"

And then she broke down crying, but Glen was close enough that when she turned from her family, she landed squarely in her arms. It had been a while since she had had a crying lump in her arms, and Glen wasn't quite sure how to calm her, but she acted on instinct and other senses and slowly sat them both down.

"Beth." Maggie looked choked and constipated.

"I guess you needed that." Herschel said, sagging into his seat, looking his age for once. "I - Glen and Rick could you please, leave us?"

Rick looked out of his element, and Glen only patted Beth on the back.

"We'll call you back in when Beth is more coherent." Herschel promised.

"Fine." Glen sighed, but carefully extricated herself, replacing her body with a pillow. Lifting the girls face, Glen made sure Beth made eye contact before saying, "I'm here to talk. Use me, ok?"

Beth didn't get a chance to say anything as Glen turned and walked away, not looking back, following Rick.

It was only once they were outside that everything really hit home.

Beth had said they could stay, which was exactly what the majority of the group wanted, the girl had tried to kill herself though - and that. That was the bigger issue in Glen's mind.

Suicide. It was popular these days. Way too popular. Even in her weakest moments she'd never considered it. Not with Doug, not at the beginning, and no any time in between or after. Sure, she felt numb and she felt sad, but to kill oneself... what was that proving?

That you could?

 _Damnit,_ Glen said, sitting herself on one of the porch chairs. The rain blocking out any sounds coming from the house. Rick settled in next to her.

"Well." Rick said.

"Yeah," Glen said, staring at the ceiling board above her head. "Well."

* * *

Beth had honestly thought, at the time, that cutting her wrists and letting herself bleed out was what was best for everyone. What help was she, anyway? Too kind, too forgiving, too everything but helpful. Too slow. Too comfortable. Too young. Too... sad.

And when those first red drops of blood had welled up, something had sparked in her chest. Something that ignited the numbness and stiffened her. The pain was horrible. It cut deeper than the first initial swipe. And it was raw and it cleared away everything in her mind about what she wasn't and told her exactly what she was.

She was a survivor.

Except, watching the blood drip down her arms, she realized she wasn't doing a very good job of it.

 _I want to live._ She thought to herself, dazed, as she waited for something to happen. For someone to knock on the door maybe. For the sun to shine just right in her eye. For the world to end, so she didn't need to make the choice.

Instead, it became clear, as the more blood she lost, that it would be up to her.

And she grabbed a towel in trembling fingers, pressing it hard onto her wrist, over the three lines across.

That was when Maggie started knocking. Beth's voice was gone. All she could do was stare, helplessly, at the already huge puddle of blood underneath her. Then the knocking became banging and Beth smiled. Then her fathers voice came through, right as she started sliding down the wall, into the tub.

Everything was gaining an underwater like quality. Fuzzy.

The door burst inwards. Patricia hot on the heels of Herschel.

And then, Beth smiled, as she let go.

* * *

The rain stopped before anyone came to get them.

Glen wasn't going to look too deeply into that, but she did say a quick thanks to God as Herschel came out and started walking. He stopped about halfway down the porch steps and asked, barely over his shoulder,

"Would you stay with my girls?"

Glen nodded, knowing he wouldn't see it, but not willing to speak.

Herschel took it as the yes it was and continued walking. His walk was calm, even, but there was something in the way he clenched his hand. He got about halfway down the driveway before Glen, without turning to look at Rick, said,

"Go after him. Tell him anything to get him not to do something stupid."

And the cowboy, bless his heart, didn't ask a single question. Though he did gather reinforcements. Shane, Andrea, and T-Dawg following. All more than aware they would be going out of the fence. Daryl came out of the camper, gave Glen a salut before walking away.

 _That man._ Glen though fondly.

She sat and rocked for a while more, before breathing in the quiet night air in one last gulp before rising.

_Now or never._

She found Maggie sitting at the kitchen table, a tumbler of whiskey in her hand, the other carding through her hair uselessly. To the left, in the living room, Beth was still curled up on the couch, but she'd laid down sometime after she'd cried her last few tears. Now she just sat, clutching the pillow, staring at the fireplace.

Glen decided Beth needed her a little more.

Sitting on the lazyboy, Glen sat and waited.

There were not many thoughts in her head. Nothing important. Nothing neglectful. Nothing, really, but this:

_Shit. This girl. Suicide. What made it seem the best? What made it seem like the best bet? Why her? She's just a kid._

"When I was five," Beth said, speaking small and timid. Her voice hoarse. "Mom took me to Atlanta on a daytrip. It was my birthday the next day and she wanted to get me an outfit."

"Hmm,"

"We're farmers so we don't always have a lot of money, but mom, I swear, she spent thirty bucks on that dress she got me. And the shoes. And the bows. And when we got home, Daddy wasn't even a little mad." She closed her eyes, squeezing them so tightly shut. "I was _so_ sure he was going to be mad."

"Why're you telling me this?" Glen asked.

"I'm just trying to... I don't know, actually. That memory just came to me."

Glen melted a little bit. _What was it about children and innocent people that got to her?_

"You didn't really get the chance to mourn her, did you?"

"... No. I guess not. She was just always... sick. Needing help. So what if she bit at me and slashed and growled?" Beth sniffled here, holding back in the rest of her tears. "She was sick and... and she was going to get better."

Glen didn't nod, didn't answer to that, just waited for Beth to continue. Yet, she didn't. So Glen took it upon herself to steer the conversation away from her mother.

"How old are you Beth?"

"Sixteen."

"Hmmm, do you know what I was doing at sixteen?"

Beth was silent, but sat up a little. "No... What?"

"I was smoking with this little shit of a boy behind the bleachers every day." Glen said with a fond smile. "And in the summer, I was punching this other little shit, because he had bad mouthed my little brother. Not every day, but near enough that I got a reputation... And in the winter, my mother told me I would be going to college to be a doctor."

Glen's hand twitched as he smile turned a little sour. "Any kind of doctor would do, she just told me I had to choose which and they would support me. But I didn't want to be a Doctor. And it was later, in college that I did what I wanted and got away from my mom, and I didn't even try to get my degree in anything useful."

Beth had sat up fully. Glen was sure she heard Maggie shuffle in the kitchen.

"So?" Beth asked, shivering.

"A story for a story, though I guess mine had a point. The point is that everyone is different at sixteen," Glen said. "And that's not bad. Everyone's got different demons to kill, but we can count on the fact that everyone has them.'

"... You're a lot nicer than I thought you were."

Glen leaned back into her chair, laughing. "Oh, I'm not all that nice."

Beth looked like she wanted to protest that but was confused on how to do so exactly. So she didn't, just settled into the couch, her gaze flickering away. Maggie came and put a blanket over her.

It took a half an hour, but sometime that none of them would remember, they all fell asleep. At least for a little while. This time, not to the sound of rain, but a generator. A gentle hum. One that wouldn't last forever, for everything had to end. The good. The bad. The ugly.

* * *

_Alright, show of hands - who thinks Beth is a Cinnamon bun to perfect for this world? Cause I do. I FUCKING DO. This chapter ran away with itself. Its twice as long as it was supposed to be but I didn't want to cut it up cause uhm, no not gonna happen thank you muchly. Also I've been having trouble writing Beth, though, because she's a sweet little bunny rabbit, but I almost feel like I've given her **too much** fang... -sigh- you guys will see._

_Thanks for reading!_


	17. Can't Make Him Drink

I meant to post this on Friday, but I have been swamped with just... life. Too much life. My job is ending on the 13th (yes that's right, Friday the thirteenth) and I will be jobless for about a month. It's... well it's a bit _crazy_. I haven't been jobless like that in years and it feels weird and awkward. I have no clue what I will do with myself. I've been working since I was old enough to legally-be-paid to work, which was what 14? It was before I went to highschool that was for sure.

I don't know... its strange. I've finished college, now I'm entering into my first real world job in about a monthish, and I guess it's just all getting pretty crazy. Ugh. Being an adult sucks. It's also like... strangely awesome? Like I am the captain of my own fate and it's terrifying.

Anyways, enough babbling. Onward with the story.

* * *

**[ _Ephesians 6:12_ ] For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.**

* * *

**Can't Make Him Drink**

* * *

Herschel liked to think himself wise and smart and aged and understanding. He'd been a drunk for a good portion of his life, he'd repented, he was a sinner, but now he had Jesus. He was good. He was good in Gods book. Nothing else mattered. Nothing mattered at all. It really didn't.

Then these stranger had showed up.

A wounded kid (wounded by kind, gentle giant Otis) and begging for help. And he, being a christian man wouldn't have said no, even if it had only been a paper cut. It went against everything he stood for.

How long they had stayed would be negotiable.

And he had tried to negotiate with Rick, except, for how strong and wise and broken he had seemed - he deferred to the little asian girl with them. The girl who was shrewd and small and had a strength about her that had nothing to do with muscles. In fact, the first time he had really gotten a look at her, it was when that Amy girl had been talking to her about something or another and Glen was listening half heartedly.

Glen had had her arms crossed, leaning against the post of the porch, the sun on her face as she listened to the nonsense Amy was going on and on about. And Herschel had seen it.

It wasn't perceptible to many people. Herschel himself didn't see it in many people. Not anymore anyway. At least, not broadcasted, but this girl... this Glen, she had it. Passion and fire and a will stronger than many he had known filled with the guts and the know-how to survive - and a killer. Her eyes were sharp, sharper and sharper than any other, even the butcher, Evan's. And she was unashamed. There wasn't really a hint of guilt or agony or anything.

She just was.

And it had been then that he knew they needed to leave, because as soon as he noticed it in Glen, the rest of their rag-tag group seemed to display the same signs. Cool. Aloof. Silent more often than not. Some were bubbly and his daughters got on with them just fine, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was what they were.

And that was cold-blooded murderers. All of them. Shane, especially.

Herschel had stayed up all night waiting for any sign that they were supposed to stay. After Beth had had her outburst, he couldn't not consider it.

And receiving no word for or otherwise, knew he had to act in his people's best interest.

Yet... Still. He had the bible to lean on. And Psalms one-one said it all:

_Blessed are those who do not walk in step with the wicked or stand in the way that sinners take or sit in the company of mockers._

It comforted him, every time he imagined pushing the people away and being convicted for it. And he wrapped himself in that verse. And even though the world was different now, horrible, a place filled with demons and all manner of wickedness, as long as he had that verse to hold strong to - to God - to the Bible - everything would come later.

Except, Herschel forgot that. Had a momentary lapse of... _everything_ and he ran.

Ran like the coward he used to be.

And he also forgot that for every verse in scripture, there is a story tied to it. And that scripture was tied to submission to the lord. And the Lord had already previously stated: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' For love, that was the only thing that was going to give anyone a long life.

Because, as everyone knows but may not realize, love is sacrifice.

* * *

Rick, Shane, Andrea and T-Dawg entered the bar and almost expected to find Herschel dead. Walkers chewing on him. Though the town was a ghost town, hadn't most of the dangerous town's been like that? One second nothing, the next every street filled?

"Hershel." Rick said.

The man grunted, not turning back. Everyone stood for a moment, Andrea shrewdly watching the world around - in case of an attack.

"Who's with you?" The older man finally said.

"Shane." Rick said slowly. Levely. "Andrea. T-Dawg."

"Hmmm. Maggie send ya?"

"We volunteered." Shane spoke up.

"We're good like that." Andrea sneered.

Herschel didn't nod, didn't smile, didn't turn his head - no - he just threw back another shot. There were too many smells in the small bar to distinguish what kind of alcohol, but it didn't even make the man winced.

"How many have you had?" Shane asked as they all walked forward, slowly, as so not to startle the man.

It was impressive considering he'd only had a four minute lead. Yet, he did know the town better. Herschel didn't care though, even as Rick settled next to him. As Andrea and T-Dawg stayed back, at the doors, ready for anything. And Shane went around the bar, getting himself something.

"Not enough."

Which, was impressive, because there was an entire bottle empty next to him.

Rick sighed. He really didn't want to deal with this. He had a kid he needed to get back to and so did Herschel.

"Let's finish this back at the farm," Shane suggested as he sniffed a bottle and then took a chug.

"Beth's not doing so hot. She collapsed after you left. Probably in shock or somethin'. Glen stayed behind with her."

It was a lie. Kind of. The last Rick had seen of Beth was not good, after all. Everyone else followed along with him.

"Must be shock." Andrea piped in, looking away, out the window.

"Maggie's with her." Herschel said, swirling around the ice in his glass forlornly.

"Yeah," Rick nodded. "but Beth needs you."

Herschel chuckled, humorlessly. "What could I do? What could I do that I haven't done already?"

He scoffed, pouring himself some more whiskey. "She needs her mother."

"Or rather," He continued. "to mourn like she should've done weeks ago."

T-Dawg and Andrea stiffened. Shane's head whipped around to look at the old man. Rick just tighten his mouth.

Herschel didn't notice any of them.

"I robbed her of that. I see that now."

"You didn't know." Rick said, trying desperately to connect. Beth did need her father, after all. "You thought there was a cure."

"Yeah, who'd blame you for holding out hope?" Andrea demanded.

"Not me," T-Dawg pipped in.

Shane glared at him, obviously not appreciating him even speaking.

"None of us blame you for that," Rick said, secretly thinking that Glen might. But she had interesting ideas about the world at large, anyway.

"Hope? You want to know about hope?" Herschel said, finally turning to look Rick in the eye. "When I first saw you running across my field, your boy in your arms, I had little hope he would survive." Bitterly, he added. "But he did."

"He did." Rick agreed, wondering where Herschel's mind was going to take this.

"Even though we lost Otis, and your man Shane made it back. We saved your boy."

 _Where was he going with this?_ They all thought individually. Shane couldn't help but just want to roll his eyes, punch the old man in the face, and drag him to the car. They were wasting time here. Thought... it wasn't like they needed to be anywhere either.

"Does he have a point to this?" Andrea leaned over and asked T-Dawg. The black man just shrugged.

"That was the miracle that proved to me miracles do exist." Herschel said, taking another shot. "Only it was a shame. A bait and switch. And... and I was a fool, Rick, you and your people saw to that."

"But you see what we were talking about, now." Rick said, trying to break through the melancholy. "You still have your family. You still have your farm."

"My daughters deserve better than that."

Rick was getting sick and tired of this.

"So does my son,"

That, at the very least, made Herschel pause for a second. Yet he didn't say anything more.

"So what?" Andrea spoke up from behind. "Do we just wait for him to pass out?"

"Just go." Herschel said, a snarl.

"And what'll that accomplish?" Rick asked. "Your family is waiting for you. They need you."

"Stop telling me how to care for my family, my farm!" Herschel snarled, throwing a bottle. It shattered against the wall and rained glass and slashed alcohol into the floorboards. Yet, no one moved. Herschel took it upon himself to continue.

"I do the christian thing. I give you shelter." He threw his arms with every sentence. "You destroy it all! You people are like a plague..."

"Plagues a bit much... The world was already a shit place before we met," Shane drawled, unimpressed.

"And you take no responsibility. None at all! Not for that girl, the one you all think makes a good leader. And not for your own mistakes."

"Glen's been in the place of leader for all of a week." Rick said, bristling, defensive. "We all do our best. Isn't that enough?"

"I don't know." Herschel said, staring at Rick, brow furrowed.

Shane scoffed. "Yeah, well when you figure it out, let us know, would ya?"

"Are we done here, yet?" Andrea asked, impatiently looking out the windows flanked by T-Dawg.

"Yes," Rick said firmly. "We are. Now, come on. Your girls need you now more than ever."

Herschel still looked unsure. Unconvinced.

"The world's ending around them. They've just officially lost their mother. You think they could stomach losing you too?"

"I didn't want to believe you." Hershel said staring blankly at a wall. Rick felt himself get nervous. Didn't want to believe what?

"You told me. You told me and I didn't believe you I didn't listen. You told me there was no cure. That they were dead not sick. I chose not to believe that. I see that now."

The old man looked years and year older as he slumped, hands over his face. His voice coming out in the beginnings of a sob. "When Shane shot Lou in the chest... she didn't stop. Didn't look phased. Just kept coming at him. That's when I knew. Knew what an ass I had been. That's when I knew Annette had been dead a long, long time and I was feeding a rotten corpse! I knew then. I knew that there was no hope."

Shane looked away at that as Herschel began to weep.

"And when that lady came out of the barn. I saw the look on all your faces." He turned to them, to Rick, to Andrea. "I knew you all knew it, too."

_What did you say to that?_

Rick wasn't in the mood to start anything. Not uplifting. Not depressing. He didn't have the words.

One in their group did, though.

"Man," T-Dawg snorted, looking thoroughly put-off of everyone. "Why's it always gotta be about hope with you white people?"

"What else would it be about?" Andrea asked, a note of shock in her face. It had been a long time since T-Dawg had really raised his voice, his opinion. In fact, since Glen had ignored him, snarled at him, and left him alone - since the top of the building a decision that hadn't exactly broken many hearts but that had sealed his fate - he'd only gotten quieter. This must have been bubbling for a while.

"Why can't being alive be it's own reward?" The black man continued, shaking his head. "Why's it always gotta be about the immediate future? Why's it always gotta be what the world will become and not what we're gonna become?"

"When'd you become so philosophical?" Shane retorted, but there was no bite. He was listening carefully.

T-Dawg glared. "You know what the truth is? None of this is any different than it used to be. Death is still death. It's always been there, whether it's from a heart attack, cancer, or a walker.

"We live, then we die and the only say we get is when. And even then it ain't much. What's the difference? You didn't think it was hopeless before, did you? _Now_ there are people back at home trying to hang on."

Rick and Shane shared a look. It spoke volumes more than anything either of them could have said. Didn't it?

"They need us," T-Dawg continued, not evening seeing them anymore. "Even if it's just to give them a reason to go on, even if we don't believe it ourselves. You know what? This- this isn't about what we believe anymore."

The man pointed outside, to the door.

"It's about them."

"So why don't you hold onto that part... I mean, none of us are perfect. I sentenced a man to death on a rooftop for my own clumsiness - and I bet a fair few people at camp thought I shoulda hung for that. Maybe not because of his death neither," He snorted in amusement. "And I know one thing. About all of this. If you've got something - shouldn't you guard it?"

It was silent in the bar. Everyone staring at T-Dawg and his broken, shattered, silence.

"I think we've said enough." Rick broke the stillness and reached for a glazed eyed Herschel. "Let's go."

Before the old man could really put up much of a fight, there were two men entering in the back of the bar.

* * *

The old farmer watched how the two intruders came around. Walking slowly, wearily, tensed and watching everyone. Those same eyes, like the group on his farms, hard, cold, empty. Murders. He felt his pulse quicken.

There was a brief introduction, a small chat, everyone stepping on eggshells around each other.

"We don't want to hurt ya." One of the men said, all smiles, all charm.

Herschel and the rag-tag group that had followed him into the bar hadn't been in the bar long. Long enough for it to count but not long. Yet, for how short a time they had been there, these men that had just appeared - had been there less time.

Herschel saw right through them, but was in no position to point it out.

He didn't need to for Shane and Andrea and T-Dawg got it loud and clear as well.

_Don't trust this man._

"We don't want no trouble, neither." T-Dawg said, flexing his fingers.

"Yeah," Shane said, licking his lips. "No trouble."

"We're just passing through." Rick lied, easily.

"You ain't got no stuff." One of them said. "Must not be very far from your camp."

"Same could be said of you." Rick said.

"We're the scouts for our group, just run ahead a little ways, make sure the Geeks ain't around. You know how it is, don'tcha?" The guy leered at Andrea when he said that.

"Course," Andrea said with a short smile.

And Herschel didn't know what set off the fight that came, a walker, a misfired gun, a misspoken word that he didn't understand yet or what, but he sure wasn't participating.

In fact, he lunged underneath a table and chairs when someone drew a gun - it was hazy, was it Rick? One of the other men? Shane? - then there was gunfire, and a moaning, and then a shattering. Smoke and sounds of things breaking. Shit hit the fan. The strong, strong smell of liquor flooded his senses and he knew a shelf had fallen. There were growls, moans, and groans - human though - not walker.

And then, silence.

"Clear." Rick shouted first, followed by Shane.

"Good to go here," T-Dawg.

Andrea was last. "I count three bodies - only one Walker?"

"I thought I heard another one... Maybe they ran?"

"Looks like it. You can come out now Herschel."

With weak, shaky limbs, the older man rose. It was a mixture of fear and old age catching up to him. And when he looked at the group standing with their weapons still drawn, blood on their faces from the back splash, and yet they were relaxed. Rick kicked the body in front of him, his face expressionless as he panted, gun pointed down and away, a cops-carry. Andrea shared a weak smile with Shane, who looked like he wanted nothing more than to fall into her face.

It wasn't love, Hershel knew that, but it was something that they needed. Or thought they needed.

"Is everyone like that?" Hershel asked.

Rick gave him a measured look, but it wasn't him who answered.

It was the black man. "No. But most? Yeah. Most of them are."

And, bless his old heart that could still feel and that could still beat, but he was starting to understand what Rick and Glen had meant -

" _If you knew what was out there, you wouldn't ask us to leave."_

And he believed.

 _Dear lord, help me get through this,_ He prayed, dizzily from both sobering up and the headrush of standing.

* * *

It was dark out when the sound of that beat up truck came and died down, awakening the three women asleep on the couch.

Glen knew at once when the group returned that something had happened. Bad or good, she didn't know. For one thing, Shane was leaning heavily on Rick, who supported him under his armpit and around his shoulder. T-Dawg and Andrea were walking side by side in stony silence and Herschel looked shell shocked. Yet, there was an air of contemplation about him, even as he trudged along, miles behind the others.

 _Were they attacked?_ Glen wanted to ask, but she also wanted to hear it from them. To hear them talk.

Except that was thrown out the window as Maggie came out onto the porch, saw the sorry state the group was in and gasped. She ran towards her father. She stopping momentarily to grab Andrea's arm and ask in a breathless voice, "are you okay?", and getting a nod, continued on.

"What happened?" Maggie demanded as she wiped some blood off of Herschel's face.

"Other's." T-Dawg answered.

"Others?" The daughter demanded. "You're the only others we've seen in **months**."

"Yeah, well," Rick said, still limping along with Shane. "There are plenty of people left in the world."

"So then, what happened? Did you smoke 'em?" Glen asked, raising a brow. "I'm guessing since they aren't here with you, they're dead."

"We killed them," Rick said, looking more or less conflicted. He added, as if to make it all better, "but they drew on us first."

Glen noticed how his eyes wouldn't look at her. How he kept wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Oh gosh, was he on the verge of tears? Now was not the time to be kind, though, ofrgentle.

"Was this the first man you've killed?" Glen asked.

Rick shook his head. Shane answered for him, watching him carefully. "We've had to shoot people. We've never shot... well, we've never shot just to survive before."

Shane even managed to look sincere when he said that.

"Rick, you did good, okay?" Glen shook his shoulder slightly. He looked at her. Not seeing her. "They would have kiled you. With you dead, they would have come for us. For Carl." That did it. Rick had fire in his eyes then when he looked up, before looking away again, ashamed probably. "They were in the wrong place, wrong time. You drew first. You won."

"I - "

"We matter, Rick. Not them."

Rick refused to look at her, staring away, clenched jaw like Daryl did. "So what if you killed them? They drew on you, like you said, so as far as I'm concerned, it was justified. So suck it up."

"I don't like killing people." Rick said.

"None of us do..."

"Speak for yourself." Andrea murmured, under her breath.

"Hey. Focus," Amy said, frantic, snapping under her sister's nose. "Were there any others? Will they come after you for the one's you killed?"

Amy had a point. Glen said as much.

"We don't know." Shane said, rubbing his jaw. "Could be. They could have been scouting ahead."

"Could be?" Glen demanded, with a sigh.

"I heard 'em," T-Dawg spoke up. "They said they were scouting, remember?"

"Scouts. Awesome."

"It might not be - "

"Great. Just another thing to worry about." Glen snorted. "And you, Herschel? Anything to add?"

"Other than I was just along for the ride?" He asked, before shaking his head. "No. Nothing to add."

"Dad?" Maggie asked.

"I'm sorry hon, I didn't mean to worry you." Herschel said, his voice wet.

His daughter didn't say anything, but her action spoke louder than anything she could have said as she pulled him close into a tight, crushing hug.

"Don't you ever dare do that to me again." Maggie whispered fiercely.

And Herschel, bless his heart, he lied with the best of them.

"I won't."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys don't mind that T-Dawg stole Rick's lines about hope and stuff. I don't think even good old cowboy Rick could muster up that much hope and sappyness after losing Lori. No matter that Carl survived. Also, lots of dialog in this chapter, and kind of filler, but it needed to be done. Anybody have any guesses on the next death? :P


	18. Leaving is No Longer an Option

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnddddddddd we've got a little more filler - but I thought this chapter was especially necessary for Daryl and Glen's romance to kind of... I don't know make itself more real, concrete. Honestly, this chapter is really cuties and maybe even funny and fluffy and I don't know what else to call it. It's got some plot hidden in too.
> 
> It's a filler. It is what it is. I can't put it in a little tux on it and call it like the next great chapter or whatever, but it is fluffy and cute. Two things seriously lacking in this story.

Glen took it upon herself to check up on everyone, like usual. It was one of the only jobs she didn't mind.

It was hard to keep track of every single one of the people's day to day lives, after all. There were nine of them, excluding the kids, and it was vital to their survival that she knew them all. Even if she didn't care for them. As a person, anyway. An individual. As a group they needed to be strong.

So when she had cleared everyone and ended on Carol, who had been putting both Carl and Sophia to sleep, Glen actually wasn't quite sure what Carol **had** been doing.

"Glen." Carol greeted in that soft voice of hers, the motherly smile, that was more rueful than happy. "How'd things go with..." Her eyes flickered to the house. "The farmers?"

"About how I assumed it'd go." Glen said, flopping into the booth opposite her in the RV.

"Not good?"

"Not good." Glen agreed, before adding hesitantly. "Yet, not all that bad."

"Ahhh." Carol said, like she understood. "So... are we staying?"

"For now."

Carol softened and relaxed. "Oh good. These kids haven't had a stable environment in weeks." She smiled fondly over at the pile they made on the bed. "I think the farm is doing them some good. Being in one place for a while. Stability. It's what children need."

Glen's brow furrowed. She was too tired to argue this right now, especially since it seemed like half the group had won.

"But we're not safe here. We're not safe anywhere." Glen tried to impress on her. "And if we get comfortable, or if life gets easy, we'll forget that. It'll be too easy. We're not safe. No matter what we do."

Carol smiled sadly, staring thoughtfully to the bed where Carl and Sophia were sleeping.

"No, we're not. But does that matter?"

Did it matter? Wasn't that a loaded question.

Glen paused in her frown. "I don't know... shouldn't it?"

"Probably," The mother shrugged. "But, if we're here, we may as well make the best of it. For the children."

Glen chuckled to herself, shaking her head, before getting up.

"You gonna stay out here tonight?"

Carol nodded once, not taking her eyes from the kids. But that was easy to recognize as a dismissal than anything else. Carol was not many things, but loyal to her kid was a default setting.

* * *

Everyone was kind of indirectly invited in from the cold and the RV after that. Beth's statement, the invitation to stay, stood and it was mostly agreed they'd be staying if not the night, than at least for a little while longer. A week or more.

If that turned into a month or two or even a year, nobody was quite sure or any wiser to it.

The majority of the group, after everyone was packed into the house, settled into the living room and lit a fire. It was mostly silent, they were just soaking in each others company. After the day they all had had, for a variety of reasons, winding down in relative warmth was much needed.

Even if Andrea and Amy refused to be in the same room. Or Shane refused to meet anyone's eyes. Or Rick begged off early to go watch his son sleep, just thankful the little tyke was alive. Or Carol had stayed in the RV with the two sleeping children. Or Daryl was missing entirely from the picture.

Even though nobody was on the same page, they were at least all in the same chapter.

Beth was back to her quiet self. Gone was that spitfire and anger and hatred and in its place was something a little more... contemplative. She stared at her bandages often, tracing the lines she had cut over the soft white cotton padding. Nobody noticed, or at least they all pretended not to notice.

Glen noticed.

And, when it came time to call it a night, Glen, Daryl, and Shane were all shoved into that little room again. Only Daryl hadn't shown up yet and Glen assumed, rightly so, that he was going to be spending the first night he could in a while out in the forest, reconnecting with nature.

Which is why she was shocked to be roused out of her sleep at almost five in the morning to Daryl, stripped down to clean pants, sliding into bed with her.

Groggy, but able to be awake in a moments notice, she blinked at him owlishly. "What'ryou doin' here?"

"Andrea told me what happened. Whole deal." He said, simply as he settled under the covers. His rough skin brushing against her bare legs, and skin. "Was gonna stay outside, but thought sleeping in a bed sounded pretty good."

"Hmm," Glen hummed, already feeling herself allow her guard to slip. Allow sleep to creep back in at the calm ease of Daryl's own voice. "Sound's good ta me."

She burrowed into the warm area of his neck and shoulder, going limp against Daryl's cool body.

Daryl snorted a laugh. "Miss me didja ya?"

"Ya know it." Glen smiled into his bicep, scooting closer. She shivered as she was pressed flush against his still cool, slightly damp body. "How's the farm?"

"Quiet." Daryl snorted.

"Hmmmm, that's good."

"And on your end?"

"We've been invited to stay." Glen said, before raising her voice slightly and sarcastically. " _Yeahhh_."

Daryl was silent a moment before huffing, aggravatedly. "How'd that happen?"

"It's a long story," Daryl only raised a brow, which Glen took to mean 'start talking', which she did. In short sentences that eventually went into rambling detail, she told Daryl all about her day. The day he had missed. About Beth. About Herschel. About their decisions. About the group.

"So we're here for a little while longer." Glen admitted finally, as her closing statement.

"Figured somethin' like this was gonna happen."

Glen was too tired to get up and glare down at him, so she settled for glaring at the ceiling. "You knew?"

"Guessed."

"How?"

"These people want safety, comfort, and ease of access." Daryl said. "The farm gives them that in acres. Add on the children, and unless we get attacked we may never leave this place. At least... not all together."

The children. Glen thought of them rarely. But they were a thought she always had about every decision she made.

Kids. Eleven and ten. Babies. Glen remembered protecting them in the forest. Running with Sophia. Telling Carl to stay in the tree. She remembered making connections. And she remembered trying to steer as clear of the children as much as she possible could afterwards. The guiot that had taken over after she had put them in so much danger with the Walkers had nearly eaten her alive.

She still couldn't look at Carl without feeling sick.

"When I think of them..." Glen confessed. "I kick myself, ya know? They're kids. They don't belong in this world. They don't belong because it's a cold and ruthless world."

"And they don't deserve it." Daryl finished for her.

"I wish they could just be scared. Better scared than nearly dead."

"It'd be ideal, I guess."

"I'm scared."

Admitting her fear was something Glen only did with Daryl it seemed. And the claws around her heart tightened briefly before softening.

"I know."

"I don't know what I'd do if I got them killed."

"I know."

It was silent for another few moments, minutes, seconds, Glen didn't know. Daryl didn't either.

"Sleep." Daryl said, pulling her close his arm coming over her hips and resting against her back. It was as close to cuddling as they were ever going to get and Glen was asleep - exhausted by everything of the day and only holding herself awake to talk with Daryl - before Daryl could say another word.

Yet, as Glen's eyes closed, she felt like she was missing something. A thought niggled the back of her mind.

_Was everyone accounted for?_

* * *

" - I thought you said they **weren't** sleeping together?" A quiet whisper of a voice broke the morning's silence that Glen had almost just started to notice as she became aware, awake. She was comfortable. Warm. Wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and safety.

"They aren't... At least, I didn't think they were." Glen was awake enough to notice it was Amy who said that.

The other voice was Maggie's.

"That looks like sleeping together to me."

"Well, there are only two beds..."

"Does Daryl _have_ to be shirtless?" Maggie playfully whispered, the innuendo clear in her tone.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Glen finally said, cracking open a crusted eyelid.

She heard rather than saw the two women jump back.

"Glen!" Amy whispered harshly. "You scared me half to death."

With a groan, Glen raised her head and noticed the position she was in. "And you woke me up,"

"Sorry it had to be us, I bet you were hoping for a more... _pleasant_ wake up call."

There was something in Maggie's voice that had Glen blinking into wakefulness.

She'd barely noticed waking up, but it was clear what had gotten the girls talking. The cover still was over Daryl and Glen's lower torsos, but the rest of them was open for the world to see. And what there was to see, didn't leave a lot to the imagination.

Glen slept in short, booty shorts (she'd only just debated on sleeping in straight underwear) and a crop-top. The top had thankfully not slid any further up her body, but still. If Shane had cared to look, he would have gotten an eyeful.

Then there was Daryl.

He had pants on, but from the way the covers were situated, you couldn't tell. One arm was behind her head and the other was thrown almost possessively over her hips. He was still asleep, somehow, and breathed easily into her neck. All in all, if anyone had wanted to see something in the way they slept, it was rather easy.

Rolling her eyes, Glen patted Daryl softly, ever so softly, on the one spot she knew wouldn't get her thrown halfway across the room. His cheek. He creaked open an eyelid with as much grace as she had, before groaning and burrowing deeper into the pillow next to him, and subsequently into her shoulder.

"I would like to let you know, " Daryl complained. "That's about two hours o' sleep there."

Glen snorted, looking to the window and seeing that, yes, it was probably closer to only seven thirty.

"Sorry," She said with a yawn as she wiggled her way out of his arms. The slightest touch making him draw his arms back. "I'll let ya sleep then."

"Good." He said.

Glen shoo'd the two girls who were still watching, wide eyed, into the hallway as she grabbed her pack. The door had no sooner closed before she headed towards the bathroom like it was any other day, Maggie and Amy sputtering behind her.

"Wait!"

"Glen!"

"Don't you guys have something better to do than follow me around?" Glen asked, watching as their faces fell and eyes widened.

And she shut the door and was satisfied to hear their muffled yelling echo. Hopefully not loud enough to wake Daryl. Promptly forgetting them both as she had her first hot shower in days.

* * *

Glen entered the kitchen, fully dressed and hair damp, and was greeted with all conversation stopping. She'd just reached for a cup of coffee, and stilled as she looked up sharply, thinking that something must have gone wrong. _Were they being attacked? Was something going to explode?_

Only she found that everyone was just watching her. Some smiling silly. Others keeping their own smiles down or hidden behind hands.

 _That's odd._ Glen thought to herself, raising a brow as she settled in at the table and took a gulp of coffee.

"Sleep well?" Rick asked, one of the ones openly smiling.

"As well as can be expected." Glen said, watching as a few giggles broke out. Mostly from the children and Amy and Maggie, and - surprisingly - from Dale.

"Is there something on my face?" She asked, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

"Nothing's wrong with your face." Maggie said, with a smile, hiding it behind her hand a second later.

"And the giggling is just cause I'm so funny on my own?" Glen asked with a dry snort. Maggie and Amy giggled again, sharing a knowing glance.

"Wait - " Glen was not as sharp this morning it seemed. But things were catching up to her. "Is this about Daryl?"

Maggie smiled, all knowing. "We think it's great that you two finally decided to ... " She looked at the children at the table, Carl and Sophia both giggling to each other and playing a game, "You know, **get together**."

It took Glen far too long to connect the dots. Especially since she had seen the warning signs only a few minutes earlier. But in the shower, she'd washed away those silly notions with real talk, and real problems. With real solutions. Scrubbing a hand down her face, Glen sighed loud enough that she actually felt it deep in her bones.

"Daryl and I have _not_ been having sex." Glen said with a frown.

Carol whipped around and spluttered - "GLEN!"

The children hadn't heard though, but did look over curiously at what had one of the parents in a tizzy.

Glen glared at the mom.

"Sure." Shane said, with a sip of his coffee.

"Absolutely not." Rick said, looking away, with a smile.

Maggie and Amy both said. "You two? Sleeping together?"

And then they both started giggling again.

Glen glared, but felt her face flush. Everyone noticed.

"Daryl and I _shared_ a bed." Glen said, again defending herself. "We did not actually **do** anything - oh what the hell am I doing."

Nobody looked to be believing her.

"We didn't do anything."

"Sure." Amy sing-songed.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing." Maggie confirmed, but her eyes said another story.

Gulping down the rest of her coffee, snatching an apple from the counter, Glen stomped off. "Children. All of you are children."

Carl and Sophia both looked highly offended.

"Hey!"

That just made the adults at the table laugh harder.

* * *

"We have to come up with an escape plan." Shane brings up later, when he finds Glen alone. It's just after lunch and everyone's lazing around. Glen had been keeping her distance from everyone, for obvious reasons, so she was actually surprised he'd come forward for a conversation.

"Hmmm, you have more experience with planning a group escape than I do." Glen conceded, lazily. "What do you suggest?"

Shane only looked surprised and then thoughtful for a second, because he'd already thought of this. He'd just thought he would have to wheedle more out of Glen. Especially after than morning, how they'd all needled her about Daryl. "Set up a meeting place. Both north and south."

"Alright, I'm following so far."

"Depending on which side we get attacked on, if we all got separated or not, we'd have a place we could all get to. Have a set time of waiting and then we'd leave or make plans."

Glen didn't even have to think it over, she just nodded, "I like it. We'll share with everyone else tonight."

Shane looked relieved.

Glen turned and walked away.

Well at least something was getting done today.

* * *

"Is there a reason nobodies lookin' me in the eye?"

Daryl found her about four hours later, by the 'Walker' barn.

"They think we had sex last night." Glen said bluntly as she watched the wind, watched the creaking of the barn. _Was there anything they could do with it? Besides burn it down?_ The memories alone making that the only real option.

"... Why?"

"Why do we need to burn down the barn?" Glen asked, bemused for a moment as she watched a slow smile over take Daryl's face.

"No. Why'd they think we had sex."

"Maggie and Amy walked in on us sleeping." Glen measured up the barn and decided maybe it was worth keeping. "We apparently looked thoroughly comfortable with each other."

"... That's stupid. And, **also** , none of their business."

Glen couldn't help but smile before looking towards him. "My thoughts exactly."

They stood in companionable silence. Glen noticed, not for the first time, that Daryl was the only one she actually felt comfortable doing nothing with.

"Thought I had something on my face at first." Daryl spoke without prompting, eliciting a laugh from Glen.

"I know, right?"

Daryl just shook his head before stepping up right next to her. "You wanna burn it down?"

"Thinkin' against it now." Glen said, crossing her arms. "At first, I thought so because of the Walkers, but now... why waste something that could be useful?"

"It's only useful if we stay."

Glen sighed. "And, unfortunately for us, the majority of the group wants to stay."

"... **We** could always leave."

 _Oh Daryl_ , Glen smiled sadly at him. "No. We can't."

And she remembered giving him the chance to walk away. To turn their backs on the group and walk away, without bloodshed, without stealing, and without any remorse. Without her conscious telling her anything different than they were right. They didn't owe the group anything at the time. She would follow him anywhere. But this, this was a promise.

Daryl sighed aggravated. His jaw working angry for half a second before he melted, relaxed.

"No. We can't." He agreed, remembering.

"I always said I would follow you anywhere," Glen said, watching how Daryl stared at the old barn. "... Will you follow me?"

And the question sounded heavier than Glen meant it to be. Sounded weighty. Final.

Daryl didn't look at her for a good second, but he did, eventually. He turned to her and couldn't quite smile, but it wasn't a frown, or a glower, or anything mean.

"Where else would I go?"

"Anywhere."

There was an even weightier pause.

"Anywhere ain't got you."

Glen felt her throat close up. Felt everything freeze. It took her forever to breath. It took her even longer to look at him. To look at him even though he wasn't looking at her. They were close enough that all it would take to touch him was a hairsbreadth movement.

Feeling like a coward suddenly, feeling the real weight of responsibility weight on her, Glen gulped.

This was more than responsibility of leadership. This was different than her promising to follow him anywhere. This was different than sticking together because they didn't have anyone else. This was more than safety. This was more than a hope or a wish or a dream.

This was real.

"And if I get us killed?"

Daryl chuckled, sort of. "You got as much chance as anything in this world, I guess."

The easing of the finality, of the security of the situation, made it easy for Glen to turn to Daryl. To reach forward, to cup the back of his head and pull him towards her. He looked inquizitive, but he didn't back away, he let her lead, and there was more trust in those few seconds than at any other time in their relationship.

It would have been easy to lean forward and kiss him.

But it would have cheapened the moment.

So, Glen didn't kiss, she just tugged him down to her level and meshed their foreheads together, sharing breath for a few precious seconds. And the intimacy of the action wasn't lost on either of them, especially considering how everything else they'd done - this was still the closest they'd ever gotten to really being _intimate_.

"I can't promise to do right by anyone," Glen said, breathe ragged, feeling honestly on the edge of tears. "Not even you. But I **can** promise I'll do my best not to cock it all up."

Even Daryl seemed to be at least a little touched by the situation. "You think I want a promise for anythin' less?"

"No." Glen said, with a smile, opening her eyes, and looking into his. "But if I didn't promise something, I think I would feel like shit."

"Then I'll accept your promise, and raise you one of my own."

"Hmmm?"

"I promise I'll follow you, even if you do lead us until stupid situations, and towards certain death, and any other number of things that could kill us. And I promise, I'll be the one to die first."

And well, other girls might get marriage proposals and flowery words and love confessions - but a guy who promises to die first?

Well, Glen didn't want anything else.

"Let's do this."

* * *

That night, per Shane's request, they planned.

Everyone was present except Carol, on account of the children, and T-Dawg. No one was quite sure about the why on that either. Hell even Daryl was here. Amy and Andrea were not talking to each other, keeping a good two person distance between them, but they were here. The farmers were here. Herschel and his girls. Yet no black man. And he was usually the first one to have all his fingers in the pie.

"Glen and I thought it would be prudent to come up with a plan for... certain circumstances." Shane began, pulling Glen through her thoughts.

"Certain circumstances?" Andrea asked on the couch squished with Maggie and Rick.

"It would be smart to have a place to meet if we need to run," Shane said, bring the meeting to order.

"Run?" Maggie demanded, head snapping up. "Why would we need to run?"

She wasn't the only one with a panicked look on her face. Beth and Amy were also staring wide eyed.

"Lots of reasons." Glen stated calmly. "Walkers over run the farm, a bigger group comes with better weapons. Somebody gets lost. We lose our minds and forget how to read a map. Like I said, loads of reasons."

Maggie looked taken aback, as if she never once thought that was a reality.

"Know any place about ten or fifteen minutes away?" Rick asked Maggie. "One north and south would be nice. Gives us options. In case they attack from one way and leave the other for escape."

The farmers shared a look between themselves. Or rather, Maggie and Beth did. Herschel was just there for aesthetics it seemed. His face hard, but softening. Maybe even going senile. He hadn't really protested much, not since Beth had exploded.

In fact... he didn't open his mouth much. Glen watched him with suspicion.

"There's an old camp ground... and Mrs. Elmwoods house?" Beth offered hesitantly. "That should be about ten, fifteen or so away."

Maggie nodded hesitantly, remembering.

Shane pulled out the map he had been studying. "Can you show us where?"

"Uhm, I think so." Beth said, taking a red sharpee. "We're not really on a map, so gimme a second."

Then she went to town, trying to hone in on the area that was her families land. It took her a bit, and while she searched everyone else talked strategy.

For once, Glen sat back and observed, not offering suggestions, just seeing what they all came up with. Her heart to heart with Daryl had smoothed her out, honestly, and she really didn't feel like getting all prickly for no reason. Though, with the group, there was always a reason she got pissy.

"So what vehicles would we take?"

"You think it'd be smart if we started stocking up now... or wait a few days?"

"The kids need school supplies, do you think we should bring those with us? Or just... I donno, find them there?"

Mostly, it was just everyone asking questions about what to bring with them, how to travel, and why they would travel. All in all, they didn't need Glen's opinions, so she made sure to shut up and allow them to get out their own stupidity now, so she wouldn't have to deal with it later. When it really **was** life or death.

 _We've got a chance, though,_ Glen thought to herself, as Beth shouted, "GOT IT!"

The men all fell over themselves to be near Beth and the map.

"Wait - that's not very far - " Shane said, looking at her finger.

"It's plenty far." Rick scoffed.

"No, we need to get as far as we can with the - "

" - I say it's **fine**."

"Rick it ain't fine - we gotta - "

Their voices rose.

"No, we need to consider all the factors."

"What factors besides time?"

"Lots of factors, Shane!"

 _Oh boy,_ Glen thought, smacking her head into her palm. _Why had I thought this would be easy?_

_This was going to be a long night._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo, what'd you guys think?


	19. Of Loyalty and Men (Or Women)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off. Sorry. I posted this on FF.net first and then apparently forgot to post it here -sweatdrop emoji- so. Uhm Yeah.  
> Sorry. Its been done and ready to go.
> 
> Uhm, so I did some wiki research - apparently the RV is a 1973 D-27C Winnebago Chieftain. That thing is boss. Annndddd, in this story I did some 'small' modifications to the interior. My family had an RV and so that was kind of how I placed the layout when I was writing. So I'll just kind of sketch it out. There are two sleeping spaces, the big bed in the back, and the bunk-bed in over the driver and passenger seat. The big bed takes up a lot of the space where the 'benches' would have taken up. So, just keep that in mind. 
> 
> Also, this RV is just too boss. It is now on a level of love that was only taken up by Beth, Daryl, and Glen. So I will try my hardest to keep this little nugget in the story for as long as I can... Don't look to hard into that, because this is after all WD fanfiction.
> 
> Thank you to all my reviewers, my Kudo'ers! You're all lovely people!

 

The entire farm was on a sort of autopilot for the new few days. Close to a week. Everything turning back to the relative normality of what it had been before. Or. Well, as close as anything 'normal' could be considering there was no normal.

Shane and Rick were off, getting into trouble, but at least it was on the farm. Most of the time. Glen had sent them both out for supplies once. They'd returned with duffle bags packed with supplies, flushed but happy. At first, Glen had been sure that even with the near unanimous voting her in, that she was going to have trouble with the two pig-headed men. But Rick seemed to appreciate that he didn't have to make any life threatening decisions, while Shane wisely kept his mouth shut.

Neither of the sisters were quite the same in the aftermath of what Glen had dubbed 'Shane Couldn't Keep It In His Pants Apocalyps'. Andrea had taken it upon herself to stand watch atop the RV until bags formed under her eyes. Amy and Beth were like two peas in a pod, never going far from each other and sharing everything. The sisters, in stark contrast, talked sparingly. If at all.

Carol, Hershel, and Dale all spent long days shut up in the house, or on the wrap around porch watching the children, or teaching the children something or another. That seemed to be one thing that kept Herschel out of Glen's hair almost indefinitely. Carl and Sophia were pretending like they were in school, and took their little school backpacks everywhere. Maggie fluttered around from group to group almost as often as Glen did. She was more of a leader to the people of the farm than Herschel was at the moment.

Then again, so was Beth.

T-Dawg was always alone, but Glen honestly didn't keep tabs on him. To Glen, he was like a tom cat that had taken up in the neighborhood and she was about to just poison him to get rid of him. He came and went almost as much as Daryl.

 _Daryl_. Glen took a moment, paused in her task of wrapping clothes expertly into outfits to stuff for later. It was a way to keep clothes for long trips, but she was tweaking it so they would have something to grab if they had to run. Her mother had taught her and it was one of the only things still alive about her inside of Glen.

_Daryl though._

Every since their talk, it was like they were on the same page for everything. They rarely talked, being exhausted from both their assigned tasks, leader and hunter-badass respectively. In fact, Glen had only seen him once, but it hadn't been awkward or weird, and they'd sat and shared some leftover soup. In silence.

You'd think with the world ending, there would be too much silence? Well, there wasn't. 

Except, maybe they were talking. They talked through raised brows, pointed spoons, snorts, and shaking heads. Talking when others came to interrupt, but otherwise just enjoying the silence they only seemed to get around each other.

It was... a relief. Glen felt comfortable. _Safe_.

Glen's hands tangled in a shirt slammed down on the table. _thunk_.

_Fuck._

Heart hammering, Glen stared off into the distance. It couldn't have been more than five days, a week at most, since they'd fucked up the whole Walker situation in the barn. Not nearly enough time to actually... feel safe.

 _Safe?_ Here _?_ _ **Comfortable**_ _?_ She thought to herself incredulously. Her stomach rolled. This wasn't supposed to happen. It was not even a _week_ past their last shit show (Andrea, Amy and Shane's melt down, alone with Beth's own failed suicide attempt, and then the whole barn thing and - ) and yet she felt... _comfortable_?

Feeling weak in the knees, Glen fell to the chair next to her.

What the fuck was this? Was it some kind of disease? Things start going good, start going right, and everyone loses whatever brains they had? Because Glen knew she wasn't the only one feeling safe. Comforted.

"Shit." She said.

It was one thing to feel confident. Confidence was in her bones. It was another thing to feel _comfortable_.

The world didn't afford comfort anymore. It couldn't. And if you thought it did, you were a fool. Glen felt like a fool at that exact moment. She took a quick peek outside, watching everyone. Since she was in the RV, she couldn't see Andrea, but that was a small comfort. The woman certainly didn't feel comfortable. And loath as Glen was to admit it, she was smart not to be.

"Glen?" A voice came from behind her, startling her.

It was Beth, without Amy.

Pushing away her gradual, building panic Glen raised a brow at the woman.

"Beth. What's up?" Glen asked, leaning against the chair more fully, trying to exude a sense that she knew what the hell she was doing. Up until a minute ago, she had known.

"Just coming in to check on you." Beth said with a smile, but Glen could read her. She could read most everyone. And she also read the situation. Without Amy, Beth looked unsure again. As if she didn't know where she was. "Need any help?"

"I'm fine... Folding." Glen hoisted the shirt she was hold. Relaxing her whitening fist mechanically. "Where's Amy?"

Beth looked away disgruntled. "With Shane."

"That's still going on?" Glen asked in surprise.

"Yeah."

"Huh, thought Amy was smarter than that." Glen said, and Beth snorted next to her before sitting across from her in a much better mood. Suddenly a lot less looking for company and more girl-talk-hush-hush whisper.

"My thoughts _exactly_. I don't know what she sees in him. Honestly," Beth said, gushing as if Glen had opened the floodgates. "I mean... he scares me. A little bit." She quickly added, as if that made it better. "He's pretty intense. Or he's pretty... nothing, I guess. And he sometimes just stares and I don't know."

 _Very articulate, that,_ Glen thought to herself dryly.

"Shane's a little... unhinged." Glen agreed as diplomatically as she could, learning quickly not to throw people under each other's buses. Once you did it once, it was soo _soo_ easy to do it again.

Beth was silent for a moment and Glen reached to start folding again, hoping to get lost in the motion.

"He killed Otis. I think."

Glen froze. Putting down the shirt that was fighting its fate, she turned towards beth fully.

"Oh? You think Shane killed Otis?"

Beth nodded looking out the little RV window. "It makes sense."

Glen didn't want to invalidate Beth's very, very real suspicions, but she also didn't need a fight breaking out. Though... if anyone could forgive and forget, it would be Beth.

And maybe... maybe that would be enough to pull Shane back.

"What if he did?" Glen asked.

Beth looked at her shocked. As if nobody had listen past that part. _Or_ as if she'd never told anyone and least of all thought it would end with someone believing her. And it was that that made her go silent. That made her contemplate, looking deeply into Glen's eyes.

"I - I don't know."

Glen snorted. "You don't know? Come on Beth, it's **simple**. If Shane killed Otis, you've got two options. Kill him for revenge or let it go."

Beth didn't flinch or flutter. Just stared at Glen with an openness that was honestly terrifying. There was anger. There was thoughtful lip-bitting. There was a measure of furrowed brow.

"... You think he killed him too, don't ya?"

"I have suspicions. Nothing concrete." Glen shook her head. "I wouldn't do anything even if he flat out told me he had though."

Beth's mouth dropped open.

"What...?"

"If Shane killed Otis..." Glen said, slowly, really thinking over her words and if they would do more harm than good. Deciding she'd already said too much, what more could hurt? Glen continued. "It's not going to bring Otis back if we killed Shane. We'd just be losing another able bodied person. And honestly, at this point, with the future so open... well, the devil you know is better than the devil you don't."

"What about justice?"

"What justice?" Glen snorted, watching as Beth's eyes grew distant. "Beth. At this point in our lives, we can't have justice _and_ peace. Okay? We have to choose one or the other. Maybe later, further down the road when things are... settled, it will be easier to get both. But it's never going to be easy to get anywhere, after all."

The younger girl looked away, there were tears in the corner of her eyes.

"But... Otis didn't deserve it." Beth said, choking on her words. "He didn't... Shane shouldn't have..."

"Shouldn't is right, but it's the past, Beth." Glen said, not reaching, not trying to really offer any comfort. Beth could handle this. Glen was sure of it. "And... we don't know for sure if he did kill otis."

Beth nodded, but didn't say anything for the rest of the time that Glen got back to folding and packing numerous outfits. She got through almost six more before Beth shot up, having seen Amy outside, alone. Then she was bundling herself off.

Glen felt slightly, _slightly_ , guilty.

* * *

Andrea wasn't sure what to think anymore. Not really.

Before the whole Shane debacle, she had convinced herself the world was a shit place but at least she was happy. She had trained. She had gotten pretty decent at shooting a gun. Learning to survive had helped her keep herself sane. Well, and sleeping with Shane. That had helped her feel normal when everything wasn't normal at all. Getting back to basics of woman likes man, man likes woman, they sleep together... It had been a comfort. The intimacy, which had been in short supply, had been nice and Andrea would have done _anything_ to keep it.

And she would have, consciousness be damned, she _**would**_ have done anything to keep it.

Anything short of knowing it had been _her own sister_ he had been sleeping with.

It was nothing more than betrayal. Shane's Betrayal. Her own betrayal of her sister. Her sister's betrayal of her.

Andrea couldn't look her sister in the eye yet, either, nor was she sure when she would be able to.

It was like being sucker punched. The look in her sisters eyes, betrayal, as if she'd been sleeping with Shane to spite her. Amy had turned and refused to talk to her. And Andrea had tried at first, giving up when she realized Amy wouldn't just let this go. Especially since she wouldn't able to let it go either. Everything felt numb for days. Then came the anger and it was one of the only things keeping her sane. That and sitting on this stupid RV and getting ready to shoot anyone who came within a half mile of her eyes.

It wasn't the first time, but Andrea was glad that everyone left her alone. Glen had made sure of that, Andrea didn't know why or how, but Glen had done it. Perhaps not for her, but for the good of the group. Heavens knows there was no love lost between the two woman. Andrea had made her thoughts on Glen clear.

Glen would always be standoffish, but Andrea understood it was necessary for someone in a leadership position. Everyone else she really hadn't had any big connection too. She helped Carol out with the kids occasionally or the cooking or the cleaning, she talked to T-Dawg about as much as she talked to Dale. The farmers were a little different. The only one she really felt like was good company was Maggie. Which made her blush when she was alone, yet she was knowledgeable about herself enough to know that Maggie was attractive and that if she had not been currently attached to Shane, maybe she would have tried _something_.

But then, Andrea had found out that Shane was sleeping with both of them. She and her sister.

And well. That had killed anything she had felt towards Shane or Maggie. Pretty well nuked it.

"Hey, you alright?" Maggie asked, waving a hand in front of her face.

"Hmm?" Andrea asked, from her seated position on top of the camper, her usual spot unless she was sleeping.

"You were out of it for a sec there." Maggie said, with a raised brow and a kind of pursed lip smile. "What were you thinkin' about?"

"Nothing." Andrea was quick to say, Maggie bought none of it. "Just thinking about the past week."

"Yeah, that'd do it."

Andrea was perplexed. "Do what?"

"Give ya that look." Maggie elaborated. "Kind of like you have to poop, but a little more pained."

Andrea gave her a withering glance, shoving her, but not very hard. She also blushed. _Had she really looked like some petulant two-year old?_

Maggie just laughed.

The sound, so foreign to the landscape since the children had gone inside to play, was like a battering ram to her horrible mood. There was a sharp sound as a door opened and Beth came out from the RV right below Andrea's feet.

 _When had she even gone in?_ Andrea wondered with narrows eyes, but it was all answered as moments later Glen came out, looking around for half a second before making her way to Shane and Rick.

"Wonder what that's about." Andrea wondered, the first real stirrings of curiosity and life in a while.

"I don't know..." Maggie said, uncertain as she watched Shane break off from Rick and follow Glen. They went to a quiet, out of the way patch of trees. "What do you think they're talking about?"

Andrea decided she didn't care. She turned away, her back to the house, as she watched the horizon.

"Don't care."

And that empty hole in her chest answered that, no, no she really didn't.

She missed Maggie's sad and inquisitively hurt frown.

* * *

After Glen and Beth's conversation, the voted-in-leader took it upon herself to finally confront Shane. She was feeling safe. And that was unacceptable. So she needed to do something dangerous. Something to get her heart pounding.

_What was more dangerous than confronting a possible murder?_

_Nothing,_ Glen thought to herself. _Absolutely nothing._

Especially since now was the perfect time for that.

It was past time, really.

It probably wasn't a smart idea, confronting a could-be-murdered because she needed to know where he stood, but she'd done stupider things for less pay off. At least now, she'd know his reasoning for killing Otis. And if he had really done it.

Which, he did, Glen would bet her left foot.

She didn't know where she got the courage to start walking towards Shane. She didn't know where she found the strength to stare, unflinchingly into danger and continue walking. Maybe it was Daryl's talk with her. Maybe it was simply she was exhausted not knowing where the hell she stood with the man. Either way, it was time.

"Hey. Shane!" Glen called as Rick and the man she was trying to get the attention of were packing up for a run to town. Both men paused, turning to her. It looked like she was right on time. Rick's eyes were bright, eager, but curious as he looked between Shane and Glen.

"Yes?"

"You got time?" Glen asked, breathing easy as she smiled. It was all fake. She wasn't feeling anywhere as confident as she wanted to be, but this needed to be done. If not for her own peace of mind, but to finally just get the whole story out of him.

"Sure." Shane looked surprised but turned to Rick. "Give us a minute?"

The ex-sheriff nodded, not really paying attention as he dropped his gear and headed towards his son and Sophia. It was that easy to get rid of him. He always wanted more time with his son and ever since Glen had taken the mantle of leader, he'd gone overboard with making sure he spent every waking moment with the kid. It didn't help that the kid was motherless.

"What'd you want to talk about?" Shane finally asked as they walked a ways away, under the cover of some trees but far away from the RV. They were away from everyone and there was no place for anyone to hide. It was clear. It didn't stop Glen from looking around, making sure she knew every nook and crook of the space.

Shane noticed.

"Glen, what is this about?"

"I've never been one to beat around the bush, so here it is - " Glen said, level, measured, slow. He looked almost amused. "Did you kill Otis? And please - " She held up her hand as Shane's face paled and he almost snarled at her. "Don't lie to me. I'm asking to see if you'll be honest with me. I've got a good idea of how it went down, but I'd like to hear it from you."

Shane was silent, not spluttering that he hadn't done it, that Otis's death was a mistake, a big heaping one, or that he was sorry. No. He didn't do that. Instead he looked Glen straight on. His eyes dark. His mouth pursed. His fist clenching and unclenching.

It was kind of like staring down a ready-to-charge bull.

"And if I did kill him?" Shane finally asked.

Glen felt like a broken record as she sighed and said, "I don't care. He's dead. There's no bringing him back. He's gone, you're not. And neither," She had a moment of genius. "Is Carl."

Shane relaxed, marginally. His face had lost a certain tenseness, but he was still all nerves and all coiled. Like a snake, ready to strike.

"Then why does it matter?" Shane looked even more annoyed. " _Our_ group members survived."

"Yeah, but I still want the truth... I want to know what you're capable of. If you're a murderer..." The word made the man shivered and closed his eyes. He stiffened like he was steeling himself for a fight. Glen knew she was right then and with nothing to lose except everything, was honest. "Like me."

Shane's eyes snapped open.

"What - "

He was about to say something else but Glen cut him off. "Yes. I've killed people."

Shane was gobsmacked. Glen was immediately annoyed. Crossing her arms, she quickly turned the subject back to him. "I've gotten over it... Have you?"

Glen knew she had him as he closed his mouth. He stared at her for a moment longer before he looked away from her towards Rick, towards Carl. He was silent.

"If you don't tell me, who are you going to tell? Rick?" Glen asked, Shane flinched. "Amy? Andrea? _Dale_?" The last name was thrown in to shake Shane, and it seemed something had worked.

The silence wasn't near anything as comfortable as Daryl's silences with her, but it wasn't bad.

"We were surrounded." Shane finally admitted, not meeting her eye for a hot second as he stared at where Rick was, hugging Carl and laughing at something his son had said. "I had just sprained or broke or whatever the fuck happened to my ankle when I jumped from the second story... Maggie was a'ways away and still in the car. Otis tried to help me and I tried to help him, but it was too much." Shane wiped his mouth as his breathing picked up.

"What was I supposed to do - you know?" Shane asked, staring at Glen suddenly. "We had all the supplies we needed to save Carl's life but what the fuck did it matter if we both got chomped? What would that accomplish?"

 _Nothing_ , Glen thought in understanding but she didn't speak. She just listened.

There would be time for questions after.

"So. As the Walkers were following us, feet, inches behind," Shane spat angrily. "I had to do something. We were running out of time."

Shane was silent for a long few moments and Glen knew he couldn't say it. He'd thought it often enough. He'd probably relieved it over and over, but saying what he had done? Was he strong enough to actually deal with that?

Glen didn't know.

"So you shot him."

"In the knee." Shane nodded, this time he couldn't tear his face away from Rick and Carl. "And I'd do it again. Carl survived. Rick survived. To me, they're worth more than he was."

_And what did one say to that?_

That was loyalty. In any other setting, it would be revered. Exalted. Shane had given up something to save something else. Glen could respect it, but she knew that nobody else would. Least of all the people in the camp that were still non-killers. At least, not really killers. Walkers counted only so much. Besides, it was about virtue. Morality. Had Shane ever really had any virtue though? Had he ever been innocent? Glen knew he had to of been. _She_ had been at one point. And then she hadn't. How quickly it had been taken away. At least his had been in service to someone else.

Glen couldn't claim anything half as noble as to save a life, except her own. She'd killed to survive.

And the faster everyone else caught onto that fact, the better off they would be.

"I get it." Glen said, quietly. "The others might not, but I do. It might not have been right, it might not ever be right, but I get it."

Shane stared at her. He could have been shocked. He could have been agog. He nodded once, finality, and strength in that one action, before his shoulders slumped and he leaned against the tree closest to him. His eyes shut as he sagged and covered them with one large, calloused hand.

"This world's so fucked up."

Glen settled into the tree next to him, leaning back, leg propped straight out. "Isn't it, though?"

"You never even hinted," Shane murmurd before steeling himself as he looked to her. "... Who'd you kill?"

"Who haven't I killed?" Glen shot back, receiving a snort for her sarcasm.

She leaned back and took a breath.

"A few people." She finally admitted. "A week in, some guy tried to get into my pants by threatening me with a gun. He probably would have succeeded, except I had a gun, too." She smiled weakly. "Fire fight. Walkers. I won. The next guy was my partner for a bit... I killed him over a granola bar. Okay, fine, maybe a little more than a granola bar. He was an asshole and tried to take my stuff and leave me for dead." Shane was more than openly staring. He was... shocked. "Then... well there was one more, but he's not important."

Doug's face imprinted behind her eyelids.

Shane said nothing. Like an idiot. Which, Glen knew, Shane was anything but.

_He'd survived, after all, hadn't he?_

Glen smiled, shook her head, before speaking. "It s not my first choice of action. Hell... I don't know who's first reaction is kill first ask questions later - but. We've all killed someone who didn't deserve it. Who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time." She paused in bemusement. "At least, _most_ of us have. Any of us that were put in the situation to. Some of our group are still all high-and-mighty and you know holier-than-thou."

Shane snorted in amusement. "You're talking about Dale."

"I'm talking about Herschel." Glen pointed out. "About Beth. Andrea. Dale. Hell, Maggie. The kids."

If Shane noticed she left Carol out, no one was any wiser. Especially considering she had left Rick out, who had killed a man in that bar and was still not quite over it.

"It won't last." Shane said, eyes moving back to Rick and Carl. Rick was looking over at them, as if gauging if it was safe to come back. Shane nodded once and Rick hugged and kissed Carl goodbye before heading towards him.

"Of course it won't last, Shane," Glen said, smacking a smile on her face as Rick neared. Still he was far enough away he didn't hear her say, "And when it all comes down around them... We'll be here to pick up the pieces."

"Yes... Yes we will." Shane's eyes shone with a new passion.

Neither of them questioned how they were going to put everyone back together again, when they couldn't even do it for themselves.

* * *

"So he did kill him, huh." Daryl stated after Glen had recounted, heavily shortened, her talk with Shane.

"Yeah."

"Figures."

Glen snorted before staring into the darkness outside the RV.

Everyone else was in the house, but Glen and Daryl had needed some time away from them all. It hadn't been hard for Glen to convince Daryl that he should come to the RV with her, and then they'd just hunkered down, after making sure no one else was in the RV. They shared between them a can of corn chowder and about a eight of a bottle of Jack she'd been hiding.

"At least we know someone's willing to kill real people to keep everyone safe." Glen said, sighing.

"That makes three of us." Daryl said, with an eyeroll.

"I bet Andrea wouldn't mind shooting people." Glen said, with a smile. "The rest, however, are useless."

"We'll see when the time comes."

"Let's hope its not too soon."

Daryl looked at Glen, an unreadable expression flashing across his face as he sighed, before propping himself up.

"It's gonna happen sooner. Rather than later."

Of course it was, but Glen wasn't quite ready to admit that.

"Night. A week or two, no more." Daryl continued, as if unconcerned with what he was predicted. "People. Or Walkers. Maybe both. If it don't - I'll eat my crossbow."

Glen laughed, patting his cheek.

"Daryl, honey, you eat that crossbow and I'm gonna kick your ass."

Daryl laughed, a rough kind of thing that sounded more painful than pleasurable, before tossing a blanket at her face.

Yet Glen did not point out that he was right. Probably, of course. She didn't, because that was just not done. If you left that kind of prophecy unhindered, most times it dried up in the wind.

* * *

Patricia kept to herself mostly.

Nobody at the farm had really noticed her disappearance. At least, none of the newcomers had. Beth had visited her once, but that was it. It wasn't a long visit either. A chat. A cup of tea. Beth begging off to take care of the cows or the horses or... well Patricia couldn't be bothered to care which one.

She couldn't be bothered for a lot of things, lately.

Ever since Otis never came back, life had just lost purpose, luster, and... and _life_. Herschel had told her she was more than welcome back at the main farm, but Patricia knew she wasn't. Not after Otis' death. Not after the 'slaughter' of the people in the barn. If not for her own self, than for their own. She couldn't be around people.

No. It was better in the silence of the house. Where no one talked.

Well. Almost no one.

A low growling, groaning, moaning, scratching came from the basement.

"Oh, hush." Patricia said, looking at the door fondly. "You've hardly been in there a day."

She smiled, happy to finally be able to help someone, even if that someone was sick.

And dying.

She heard a loud crashing and quickly rose. _Oh, no, had the poor dear fallen down the stairs?_

Patricia set down her cup and went to open the door to the basement.

_After all, what was life if you couldn't help out your neighbors?_


	20. We Go Forward, Then Right Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, first things first: I love you all but I just wanted to show Patricia dying without actually being like... involved in her death? Hahah. So yeah. Reading-in-between chapters, Patricia opens the door and the zombie noms her face. Tragic, really, just tragic. And THEN this next chapter takes place ;D Sorry I didn't have any big plans for her...
> 
> Also, next thing on the agenda. Everything is fictional. Seriously. Like some of these things I looked up and other things I made up. There is no campground even kind of close to the farm irl but what can I say, it was a convenient plot element and I wanted it to make at least a little sense.
> 
> So. There.
> 
> Author invokes creative license to do whatever I want. - flips table -

Dale decided to confront Shane. Because Shane had killed Otis, a man they had barely known, and he felt that that was wrong. And it was that wrong, that last wrong, that had really broke the camel's back. Dale was just sick and tired of seeing so much **bad** , and he decided he was going to do some _good_.

He'd kept silent for almost a month and everything he'd seen of the man just convinced him that he was right.

Shane wasn't anybody he wanted watching his back.

He could have, of course, done it in a more open area like Glen had, or been less accusatory, or really anything - and it might have saved him. Except he was Dale and Dale didn't do anything by halves. So he confronted him in a field while everyone's back was turned. While everyone was wrapping up for the day.

"You killed that man, Shane." Dale said, firmly in the field. "I stayed quiet when it came out that Rick was Lori's husband. Cause we didn't need no drama, but this is different. And I'm going to make sure everyone knows it."

Shane's jaw worked as he stared, smoldering dark eyes. It said something that he wasn't even denying it.

"Who are you going to tell?"

"Glen. For starters - "

Shane had a moment to feel... **smug**.

"Glen already knows."

Dale drew himself back a little. Actually shocked.

_Glen knew? She hadn't told anyone... If she hadn't told anyone... that meant...?_

She'd know. Worse, she hadn't **done** anything about it. Dale had a certain set of moral obligations. He was old. Set in his ways.

Dale drew himself up.

"So what, does that make Glen a traitor too?" Shane sneered.

Dale shook his head, uncomprehendingly. Glen couldn't know. She would have told everyone.

... Wouldn't she?

"Everyone needs to know. You're dangerous, Shane, and I'm going to tell them."

Which was the very last thing anyone should say to a Shane who was at the very edge of his frayed rope. A Shane that was not on his wits edge anymore, but still teetered. A Shane that had been given a second chance by Glen.

A Shane that was armed.

The gun was in his hand before Shane even really thought about it. What did that same about him?

 _ **Bang**_.

Something warm soaked Dales shirt. The noise barely registering. In shock he looked down to see a blossoming red spot. This was death. He was staring death in the face. Somehow, it was different than looking at a Walker. More peaceful maybe.

"Shan-" He gurgled before he dropped. It took a bit, he couldn't breath right, and blood filled him up. His mouth. His body. The ground. Then, seconds later as the shock settled, he breathed his last. Dead.

And that was when the Walkers came.

* * *

When everything went to shit, as it inevitably does about once every two or three weeks, this time three weeks, nobody was ready. **Even though** everything inevitably goes to shit for the group; It wasn't a pattern yet to them. They still held beliefs that if they just weathered this one storm. If they just squated the typhoon until it was over and done with. If they just survived... maybe it would get better.

So when, as everyone was doing their assigned chores, the dinner bell rang, it was easy to finish up what was left, and get ready for the dinner table - just as any other night. Hell even Glen had gotten into the pattern.

Though...

Glen had felt antsy all day, but that would have been attributed to anything. PMS. Leadership. Stress.

Daryl, on the other hand, was clearly tense, snippy, and always looking over his shoulder. Yet, when asked what was bothering him, he couldn't concisely say. He said 'feelings' and something wasn't right.

Which was shifty and made Glen feel even worse.

Glen trusted Daryl's gut more than she trusted her own eyes. So she'd been weary. Told him to stay close to camp. They still hadn't heard anything from those pricks that had attacked in the bar. It wouldn't do if they were attacked and he was too far away to help. And, grudgingly, but with a lot less oomph about it than usual, he conceded.

Immediately, Glen had felt better.

That hadn't been the first clue, but Glen should have seen it coming. Really, after Atlanta, after the camp had been overrun. Was this really so far out there? Was a horde, hundreds, thousands strong, stumbling towards the barn, towards the house, really a surprise?

Really?

Glen didn't know anymore. All she could do was snarl and bear it, and protect whoever was with her.

The farmers hadn't ever really been faced with such a thing, but the group should have known better than to panic. The gospel truth was they just hadn't been ready. Hadn't seen the signs. Hadn't been aware enough. Weren't ready. Sure, they had plans, they were prepared for things, but not this. Nothing on this magnitude.

 _They also,_ Glen couldn't help but think with a snarl as she loped off the head of another Walker and pushed another awya, _should have known to stick to the damn escape plan!_

Which, also, was the truth.

Glen had Beth behind her, fumbling with the bag of guns and snatching up whatever she could get her hands on. They'd been in the cellar when the screaming and shooting had begun, and had thusly been the slowest to get up to dry land. They had no idea where anyone but Jimmy was, and that was only because they had seen him, briefly, have his throat torn straight out and gobbled up outside the front door.

Beth had screamed bloody murder, collapsing against Glen. Seeing her previous boyfriend torn to shreds... it shook her up. A lot.

But Glen had saved her with a good slap. By shouting "Hold it together, dammit".

By holding off the hoard at the front door as she scrambled to right herself and her mind.

"Beth, stay close!" Glen snarled, as she shot three more Geeks and pushed another out a window. "Do you have everything?"

Beth knew where all the emergency stuff on the first floor was, after all. Glen remembered briefly yelling at her to get it.

Glen also remembered shouting for her group members. Daryl's name more than once or twice.

Nobody answered.

Was that a good thing? A bad thing? Glen didn't know.

"I got everything I could grab." Beth panted, pushing up the stairs with her arms ladened and back heavy.

"Then lets get a move on!" Glen said, whirling around and sprinting to the stairs. Now was not the time to worry about others, she had to worry about herself. She took them two at a time, same as Beth, to the sound of moaning, gasping, and groaning behind them. Even at twice the speed as the Walkers, Glen and Beth were slower than the elder wanted.

"Why are we going up stairs again?" Madam President Glen asked, not stalling or halting, just continuing full speed. Trusting the little blond knew something she didn't.

"We can get to the roof," Beth was quick to explain as she burst into the master bedroom. "And from the roof, we can get to the truck. It's still full of supplies that nobody been gotten around to moving to the barn quite yet,"

 _Ah, yeah, probably a good thing the group is too fucking lazy,_ is all Glen can really think as they both get out on the roof. Just in time to see the Barn on aflame.

Beth was deathly pale as she stared at the smoke column, eyes watering.

"Mourn and cry later," Glen said, chanting it as she jerked Beth by the arm forward. A Geek's hand swiping where she had been before losing its footing and falling down the house with a wet sound. "We don't have time for this. Come on!"

"Alright," Beth gasped. "Alright."

They went above the wrap-around on the roof to the other side of the house. The Geeks falling and flailing behind her. Their coordination shot. Beth and Glen made it to the truck, and saw that the area was relatively clear, all the Walkers were on the other side of the house still. They were alone.

_Where was everyone?_

Glen only allowed herself to think for a moment as she stared at the burning around the corner.

Then she steeled herself. It wasn't the time to mourn and cry. It wasn't the time.

Grabbing and hoisting bags over, Glen helped Beth load the back of the truck more full. Her heart stopped as she noticed, in the distance, another body. It was too far away, in the field, to see who it was. Couldn't even tell the clothing. Shit. That was two.

_Get it together, Glen!_

"Down." Glen said, instead of focusing on how much the world was turning on its head. "You first."

Beth went down like a piece of string, light and if there had been wind, probably would have gotten blown away. The truck barely bowed under her weight. As soon as she landed she scurried inside the cab, Glen landing hard in the truck behind where she had vacated only moments before.

And from there, as they started the truck up, they were home free.

 _Heh_ , Glen couldn't help but thinking to herself as she drove and Beth watched everything she knew fall away behind her. _Home. Free._

Smothering the inane chuckles of shock and panic, Glen tried to force herself to think calmly.

"Do we go back?" Beth asked in a whisper as she turned around in her seat to see behind them. To the burning. To the horde.

"Did you see anyone in trouble?"

"I didn't see **anyone**."

"What about the RV?"

"It's still there..."

Glen slowed down, the truck sputtering to a halt.

"We wait a minute." Glen said, turning in her seat to look behind her. To the slow moving bodies. None human. "We can't wait much longer, okay? We've got a meeting point. Everyone knows where to go. If we're separated, that's all we got."

Beth was pale and shaking and looked on the verge of tears.

"At least we have a meet up point."

"Yeah." Beth mumbled.

"Good thing it's north, too."

"Yeah..."

A minute came and went. Another.

Beth didn't do anything but stare behind them through the truck window. Her eyes wide, yet she didn't move.

"We have to go..." Glen said, her voice startling the girl.

"But - "

"Did you see anyone else make it out?" Glen asked, not wanting to really think about the fact that there was a very **real** possibility that Beth and she were the only ones left. Almost twenty people. Gone. Her heart clenched but she breathed back the tears.

"I don't - I don't - " Then Beth burst into tears, curling into herself, like her chest was collapsing in.

Like her heart had been stabbed.

Glen placed a hand softly on her arm, not looking away from the dark road ahead of her as she leaned into the gas, but praying that they find the spot. And fast.

* * *

The place they were driving was thirty minutes away. About. But Glen was going twenty miles over the speed limit and roaring down the road. Not like anyone was patrolling her speed anymore, but Glen looked over her shoulder for more than people. She looked for headlights.

She saw none.

In that time, Glen wracked her brain for where she knew everyone had been.

Ashamed, she couldn't pull up even one name and one place. Not who was with the horses. Not who was cooking. Not who was with the kids. Not Carol. Not anyone. Not even Daryl's.

All she knew was that they were close to the house. Or she thought they had.

Gripping the steering wheel tightly, Glen berated herself harshly. _What kind of leader was she? What kind of person was she? This was the damn apocalypse. The last time you saw a person might be the last time you_ _ **ever**_ _saw that person!_

She didn't know where a single one of her own group members was.

Guilt crawled in her throat like the need to vomit.

_Not Rick. Not Carl. Not Dale. Not Daryl..._

Glen dashed the thoughts in her mind. **Stop**. She told herself firmly. It wouldn't do to hope and dream and wonder about things. She had to get to the meeting point and wait. That was what was decided.

So she pushed on the pedal and focused on not running off the road or killing them. Which was hard. Walkers existed now, after all, and they were worse to hit than a deer.

Though, Glen had never hated waiting as much as she did now.

And she had waited for Doug to die.

* * *

They reached the spot, an old turn off for a campground, and it seemed they were either the first, or the only.

Parking the truck, Glen and Beth sat, headlights on, staring off into the black darkness. It was silent in the cab. Beth had quieted her tears all on her own. Wiping her snotty nose on her sleeve, sitting curled up.

 _Brave kid._ Glen can't help but think, as she stared and tried to reason that at least two of them were dead. At the very, very least. And that at least two were alive.

_God, that had been fast._

Faster than Glen had been able to process.

One second, dinner was ready, the next, the Walkers were having **them** for dinner. Too fast. Too quiet. They made a kind of constant hum, the groaning and moaning, that it hadn't really been noticeable throughout the day, nor the day before, even as the cattle had spooked, and the horses stomped, and all the birds had flew.

Glen and the rest of them had thought it was just people. Or maybe a small group that the animals smelled.

_Who could have guessed the magnitude of it all?_

Daryl had been the only one who had felt the change. Glen had picked up on something, too, but it could have easily just been through Daryl's own jumpiness.

Why was it always night when the Walkers struck? They weren't fast, nor smart, nor anything. It was just plain dumb luck. First the camp. Now the farm.

With a thump, Glen let her head lean against the headrest.

"It all happened so fast," Beth murmured, finally.

"Yeah. That's... that's how it happens."

"Always?"

Glen thinks back to Doug, to the Dixons. "No. Not always. Sometimes it slow, too." She smiled sardonically. "And sometimes, that's worse."

"Worse?"

"You know you're surrounded. Know you can't get out. All you got is yourself and whatever weapons on your person and you know they're gonna get you, and you know you're dead." Glen said, painting the horrifying picture behind Beth's clenched eyelids. "And that's worse. The knowing. The waiting for death."

" _Stop_." Beth pleaded.

"Sorry." Glen shrugged, pulling her shoulder awkwardly, she winced.

Looking down at her shoulder, she noticed there was a lot of blood on her. Moving the joints helped, but it was obvious she had pulled something. Running on the adrenaline high, she had missed it. _Damn_.

"We just... we just ran." Beth said suddenly.

Glen looked at her quizzically, stretching her fingers. "There was kind of a horde..."

"No," Beth said, shaking her head. "We didn't even try and stay behind to find people. We just ran. _Like cowards._ "

"We waited a few minutes."

"What's a minute to a dying man?"

"We all decided, Beth," Glen reminded her. "If anything like this happened, we were all to run and not look back."

"I thought I would be with my family then!"

There was a sound then.

Not a moan or a groan but a chuff. Of an engine. Both of them sat straighter, looking off into the distance.

They saw lights before they saw the vehicle. It was the RV.

 _Thank god._ Glen thought.

"Thank God," Beth breathed out, and watched the behemoth stutter closer and closer to them.

 _But how many were inside?_ Glen couldn't help but wonder. _All? Half?_

The cab was silent as they waited. Barely breathing.

As the RV pulled to a stop and shut off, both Beth and Glen noticed at the same time that the sound was still going. Which is when Daryl came around the corner on his motorcycle. Relief came next, knocking off the guilt and anger and potent rage. As intense as ever and as mind blowing; Glen felt physically hit by it.

That was when she knew.

Without a shadow of a doubt, without a moment's hesitation. Any hesitation that had been left inside her, was gone as she finally admitted, or accepted: Without Daryl there was no reason to live.

Glen hopped as fast as she could outside the doors, smashing the door shut behind her as she launched herself at Daryl.

* * *

Daryl had been with Carol and the kids, surprisingly enough, when everything went down.

He'd been coming from the woods in the north, which he was still kicking himself for, because if he had just gone south today, he would have been able to warn everyone. Carol was bringing the kids back from their 'fieldtrip' to the pond.

Sophia told him all about it.

"And did you know frogs come from baby tadpoles?"

Daryl had, but only because he had watched them in ponds his entire life. The connection between frogs and tadpoles had been huge, even as a child. Either way, Daryl only shook his head and pretended to hang on her every word.

"And there are so many species of frogs, too!" Carl added, not to be forgotten.

"That so." Daryl said, still feeling uncomfortable in his own skin.

Carol smiled at him, in thanks, and that was the last 'happy' thing that happened that night.

"Who's that?" Sophia asked, pointing out towards one of the fenced in padlocks.

"Uhh - " Carl said, trying to wrack his brain for an answer. "Could it be Jimmy?"

"I don't know..." Sophia said, nose scrunching up as she narrowed her eyes to see further. "He doesn't look so good..."

It was the last part of the conversation that got the adults attention. Heads whipped around as both of them looked to where the children were pointing and talking about. In the field, there was a person. They didn't look stable at all and looked shaky.

It was clear that something was wrong with them.

And that was enough for Daryl to step quickly towards the fence.

"Get the kids to the RV. Tell everyone else." Daryl said, not taking his eyes off the figure in the waning light. "I got this."

And he did. He made it halfway across the field before he realized, at about the same time he expected he would, that the Walker (for it was a Walker) wasn't alone.

Not by one, or two, or three, either. No. The steady thrum that Daryl had just equated to a headache was now clear. Daryl turned and ran as Walker after Walker came out of the woods, stumbling, groaning, and moaning towards him. Too many to hold off.

He tried calling for everyone ahead of him to get ready, but he was too far. Carol and Sophia and Carl hadn't even made it close to safety. In fact, he was halfway between them in the hoarde before they were halfway between him and the barn.

"RUN!" He roared as he came closer, startling them into twisting around, halting for a brief second, eyes widening, before taking off at a run as well.

Daryl heard a gunshot behind him but paid it no mind.

**He had to warn everyone.**

He overcame Sophia and Carl easily, and grabbed Sophia, who had the shorter legs, as Carol ran astride Carl. They were coming up on the barn. Soon they would be at the house, and then they could get in the RV and drive off. With or without the others of the group.

Except by the time he reached the barn, the Walkers had already come up from one of the flanks and were at the front of the house. It was chaos. There was screaming. Gun shots. Yet, all Daryl could focus on was the roar of a truck engine that came flooring around the back of the house. In it supplies. In it Beth.

In it, Glen.

 _Safe. She was safe_. Is all Daryl can think as he watched Glen mow through a small horde and fly down the road, to safety.

"Daryl!" Carol screamed as she stopped a few feet away from him, where he had thudded to a halt. "We have to go!"

Hoisting Sophia up higher on his hip he ran right past Carol, right to the RV. It was parked far enough away from the house that it was still relatively unmoved. Relatively, because Rick and Shane had obviously been holding off the worst of it.

"Where's Dale and T-Dawg?" Rick demanded as soon as they were near enough.

"Haven't seen them." Carol said, pale and shaking as she launched herself and Carl up the stairs to the RV.

"Got no clue." Herschel said, setting Sophia down on the steps, ushering her in as nicely as he could. It ended up being a rough push, but at least she was safer than she was a moment ago.

"I'm here!" T-Dawg shouted, as he came around the corner, out of breath.

"That's everyone."

"Everyone but us!"

Rick and Shane had to turn to look as Maggie and Hershel came over to them.

"We've got to move!" Daryl screamed as he headed towards his motorcycle, tired of all the talking. He was quick to pull out his knife and hack his way through the few Walkers that had come close to the RV and in between him and his bike.

And then, they were off.

Leaving behind the only home some of these people had known and the only hope some of them had had.

* * *

"Dale got chomped," Shane said, but it was in that way that Glen had to wonder who'd done the chomping.

A Walker, or him.

That was the one bad side of having a known murdered in your midst. You never knew how far was too far.

The group was mostly in tact. Everyone aside from Dale was still kicking from the 'group', but the farmers were down to just the Green family. Beth, Maggie, and Herschel. Patricia hadn't shown up, but then again, nobody had gone looking. Maggie had claimed that she had seen a hoarde at the house when they'd drove past it, with the door thrown wide open.

"So that was the body in the field." Glen said, shaking her head. "We saw Jimmy get taken down."

"... It all happened so fast." Maggie said, in a whisper.

"That's how it always happens." T-Dawg scoffed. "Think one second you're safe, then some rabid loonatic is bustin in through your door wanting to gnaw on your grandma."

"That how it happened with you?" Andrea asked, snorted. "Amy and I were out on a camping trip when - "

" - We all know the story." Shane cut her off with an eyeroll, which had Andrea stiffening and glaring.

"Have a little respect, Shane," Amy sneered, pulling her sister back from who had once been 'their' lover. "Oh wait, you don't know what _respect_ is."

Well, Amy had chosen her side. Unsurprisingly, It seemed blood would always tell.

"Let's all settle down people." Rick said, patting the air in a calming gesture. "It's been... it's been a trying night. And it's not just going to magically get better."

"I thought _I_ was supposed to pep-talk, Sheriff," Glen said, with a smirk, real amusement behind her eyes.

"Please don't, Glen," Rick said, not unkindly. "We want hope, not to scare them off, running."

_Fair enough._

She was a tad bit intense.

"Can we at least all agree to shifts, and to sleeping in the RV?" Glen said, nodding towards the huge vehicle.

"I got first watch!" Amy and T-Dawg said at once. It was silent for a moment as they seized each other up, before nodding once. "We got first watch."

"Good, me and Glen'll have second." Daryl said, leaning away from his motorcycle.

"Rick and me'll get morning, it seems." Shane said, working his jaw and staring, angry, at T-Dawg. Or maybe Amy. Who knew, they were too close together to tell apart at the moment.

"Wonderful." Glen said, heading towards the truck to grab supplies. "We'll mourn and talk in the morning."

And that, everyone agreed with.

* * *

Amy was out of breath when she woke Glen up, and beaming. Groggy and snippy, Glen rose begrudgingly.

"Why're you so chipper?"

Amy faltered, before slapping on her smile. "No reason. Just finally get to go to bed, is all."

It took Glen another moment as Amy disappeared, to see that the smile hadn't been fake.

_What had T-Dawg and her been up to?_

_Who cares._

Glen thinks as she shimmies the ladder of the RV and settles into the one chair.

"Did you get the chipper-parade, too?" Daryl asked, kneeling next to her on top of the RV.

"Yeah."

"T-Dawg reeked."

Brow raised, Glen silently questioned 'Of what?'.

"Sex."

Glen paused.

"Well." She said. "Amy moves on fast... God, you think they at least used protection?"

"Sure hope so." Daryl snorted, leaning back. "Last thing we need is a mixed baby on the way."

Glen wasn't even able to _think_ to take back her next words until the silence settled, hard.

"If you and me'd have a baby, it'd be mixed, too."

Heart pounding, the words she said sunk into Glen's mind. _Why did I say that? What the hell was I thinking?_

She couldn't take it back now. And what would she take back? That any child between them wouldn't be mixed - and oh God, she had actually just insinuated, **to Daryl of all people** , that she wanted to have sex, make a baby with him, and -

_Wait, did I want a baby?_

_Even more wait, why the hell am I thinking about babies?_

"Is that your way of tryin' to get me to quit bein' racist?"

Glen saw the out he was giving her and took it. "You haven't called _me_ a chink in a while, but..."

"That n- is different."

"He is."

The silence settled and Glen knew better than she knew herself that Daryl was staring off into the distance, jaw working, before finally, after almost five minutes, he changed the subject.

"We should be moving."

"I know," Glen said, leaning further back.

"Why'didn't you bring it up?"

Glen paused this time.

_Why hadn't she?_

Oh yeah.

"Because I'm tired and my brain isn't exactly working." Glen snapped, before turning it back on him. "Why didn't **you**?"

He was smirking as widely as he smirked. "I'm not Madam President."

"Oh shut it - " Glen said, but her own smile was coming forward.

"Didn't see the need." Daryl defended after Glen pushed him.

"You think we're safe here?"

"I don't think we're safe anywhere... you used to think that too."

"And I still do. Stand by it, even."

There was a rustling in the forest that silenced them. Seeing nothing, hearing nothing else, Daryl and Glen then settled in for a night of silence. Only moving when the sun started to peek through the foliage. They only moved when Shane and Rick came to relieve them, settling in without a word edgewise.

* * *

Glen assumed that she would be able to get at least a few hours shut eye before the next obstacle fell in her path.

She was wrong.

So wrong, in fact, that she slept through the next disaster.

Straight through.


	21. It's that Kind of Road Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group takes to the road. The ex-cop-boys make a mistake, everyone suffers for it. They find el dorado in the middle of a shit-storm... Can this be the fresh start everyone wants but Glen is especially terrified of?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long, long month or two. Too much to even really say. Just. Plain old exhausted. I don't think I've had a weekend to myself in like... a month? Yeah. A month. Weekends are usually my recharge time. My me time. I haven't had a quiet weekend in a while. Which means I haven't written anything of substance in a while.
> 
> November is coming up, which means Nanowrimo, so I can promise very few things for the next month or so. I will be writing, but it's an off month. I can feel it.
> 
> None the less, I have a chapter for you! And. Well. Things happen.
> 
> Also, just a side note, this story is like... really therapeutic for me to write. I can drop as many f-bombs and 'shit' and what not without a care in the world, cause Glen gives zero shits. And, as a person who is very careful with my words and how they affect peoples perceptions of me as well as just not stepping on people's toes - IT'S SO NICE. SO. SO. NICE.
> 
> I mean, now that Merle is gone, there is a lot less of the derogatory language that we all know the brothers for, but the curse words are just...
> 
> I don't know. Fun?
> 
> Anyways. Onto the story.

Shane and Rick took it upon themselves to drive as everyone slept.

Without asking opinion or waiting for people to wake up, they decided as a unit. A dumble little unit of two. Like they used to when they were partners. It was an easy decision, too. Easiest they'd made in a while. Afterall, they were on last watch, they were _most likely_ to encounter Walkers. Ergo it was up to them to keep everyone safe. They had spent about an hour moving supplies around, so the truck had been empty, which is where they shoved the motorcycle. Rick had the RV and Shane the truck.

So when everyone awoke in the morning, or more precisely, Andrea had awoke, it was to being parked on the outskirts of a church parking lot. This one an hour away from the farm. To the East.

"Where are we? And... " She asked Rick, groggily.

"Donno." Rick answered, with a yawn.

Andrea made sure to talk slow; "And... Why'd we move?"

Rick's eyes didn't so much as shift to her. "Shane and I felt it was best. Move far enough away the Walkers couldn't find us."

"... You tell Glen?"

Rick suddenly paused. His mouth open. Ready to respond

Stared into the distance before saying, "Shit. I knew I forgot something. Shit."

And in his hazy recollection, he had remembered telling Shane to tell Glen. But he also remembered Shane telling him to do it. _Oh. Shit._ It was a matter of pride that Rick wasn't scared of much. But a pissed Glen was something he definitely didn't want to deal with. Because a pissed Glen meant a pissed Daryl.

Not that Glen wasn't _terrifying_ on her own, but adding Daryl was like adding a spark next to gunpowder.

Sleep suddenly looked more attractive than standing next to a dead man. And Andrea said as much. "Good luck with that."

She patted him on the arm and then fell asleep to Rick cursing up a storm.

It was a special talent she had cultivated.

* * *

The children, Carol, and Beth had all claimed the bed in the back, which looked more like a mosh pit than anything comfortable. Herschel had taken up a kind of sentry at the edge of wall and bedboard, slumped. Maggie had taken up the seat behind the passenger seat, which was empty. Andrea was slumped at the table, in as uncomfortable position as could be expected.

It was a hot mess.

Which left the top bunk for those switching in between shifts. Amy and T-Dawg were curled up together in one corner, and Daryl and Glen had taken the other side.

Of course, Daryl was the first awake.

In everything he did, he did it quickly, efficiently, and without pause. Yet, when he woke up with Glen in his arms, snoring against his neck, close to his ear, he was finding that a few more seconds, a few more minutes even, wouldn't hurt.

In fact, he was feeling a little lazy.

It was dangerous, this feeling of lethargy, but Daryl didn't care. For one blissful second, he honestly didn't. They had survived. This was his reward. A moment of silence.

And then he looked out the small window next to Glen's butt.

 _Wait a sec._ He thought to himself, and just as quickly tensed. It wasn't the same clearing.

"Glen." He said in a very even toned, leveled voice. In an instant, she was awake as well. Except she didn't wake up like he did. She woke slowly, groaning, burying her face into Daryl's neck. Stiffening before flatlining into a pancake.

"Fiv' more minutes." She huffed into his neck, which, yes, was distracting, but he was frozen staring.

" **Glen**."

Something in his voice must have reached beyond the haze of sleepiness because she pulled away, and griped. " _What_?"

"Notice anything?"

Glen snorted.

"The fact we're not sleeping?" She said sarcastically.

"No, smart-ass," Daryl said, rolling his eyes. "We ain't where we were."

"Riddles. Never thought **you'd** be the one speaking in riddles," Glen groaned, but dutifully looked outside at the window behind his back.

"Well. I'll be damned."

And then she was wiggling out of his arms, on a warpath.

"RICK! SHANE!"

And Daryl smirked as both T-Dawg and Amy jumped at her vicious whisper.

And he watched her ass, of course. She had a nice ass.

* * *

"Now, Glen," Rick said, placatingly, as he always did.

Their leader was having none of it. Fire flickered in his eyes and her fists clenched as if she wanted to start throwing them.

"I swear to God, Rick," Glen snarled, holding her hand up in a 'stop' gesture. "If I **ever** hear you say that to me again, I can't be held accountable for my actions. And my **actions** won't be held to any standard either. You know why? Cause I _fucking_ say so, that's why."

That shut up the cop, his lips pressed tightly together.

"Glen." Rick defended himself. "We did what we thought we should."

"And failed to mention a **ny of it**. You _literally_ changed shift with us," Glen threw her arm at Daryl to bring him into her side.

"We - "

"You could have _at any_ moment talked over the decision with either of us. With me. But you didn't. You took it upon yourself and then DROVE US ALL MILES AWAY."

"It's not like that Glen, we didn't - "

"Don't fucking tell me what it looks like, Rick. Don't you fucking dare."

Rick's neck was red, and his eyes were icy, but he also looked too guilty for any of that to matter to an irate Glen.

"Where's Shane?" Glen then demanded, turning as she basically kicked down the door to the camper.

"SHANE!" And this time, she screamed, because there were no children sleeping outside.

There was a commotion at the end of the truck.

"Wut?" He asked, popping up from in front of the truck's grill.

Glen rolled her eyes. "Get over here."

Shane blinked, sleepily, blearily. When he rose and stumbled towards him, Glen even waited patiently for him to stop in front of her.

"What's up?"

"You, me, and sheriff boy need to have a conversation."

And Glen continued into the woods, knowing they would follow, if they valued their lives. Daryl was right next to her.

Shane gave Rick a confused look, missing about an hour of valuable condensed-information, and Rick only shook his head. This-side of pale and losing his color fast. Both of them followed, though.

"Know what you're gonna say?" Daryl asked.

"Besides screaming at them? No. No I don't." Yet she smiled. "But I know I'm gonna have a lot of to say... You think I can make one of them shit themselves?"

Daryl chuckled.

* * *

 _When had my life turned into this? Just ranting and raving like a lunatic?_ Glen asked herself. _Was it when I was named president? Or was it when I_ _ **took**_ _the title president?_

No matter what it was, Glen understood intimately why politicians lied, beguiled, and were general little shits.

Because everyone else was dumb. That's why.

"You didn't even say anything. You didn't wake one of us up. You didn't ask. You didn't even think," Glen ranted. "I mean, seriously, what were you thinking? We just _lost_ people and you want to take away our illusion of free choice?"

Shane raised a hand and she shushed him violently.

"Don't."

His hand fell.

"Furthermore, didn't you fucking vote me in so we didn't go through this stupid shit? What's the point of _me_ if we don't use _me_? I'm supposed to be making these stupid decisions! I'm supposed to be the fucking patsy!"

Nobody apparently had an answer to that.

Glen got in Shane's face. "Oh being quiet now, are you? Lets not. Alright. Let's **fucking** not. What exactly were you thinking? What exact-fucking-ly drove you to such stupidity?"

By the time she was over ranting, because it was just almost five minutes of ranting and raving, everyone was awake and watching at the edge of the clearing. The farmers clumped together. Watching Glen in her element. Shane and Rick were both standing defensively, arms crossed and looking at each other sheepishly, wearily.

"Anything to say for yourselves?"

"We didn't want to bother anybody." Rick immediately defended as soon as he was finally given the go ahead. "It wasn't a long drive, either. Only about an hour. It got us out of immediate danger."

Seeing Glen not buying it he added, "It wasn't a big deal!"

Shane piped in. "We needed to get as far away as we could. Walkers don't stop for nothing, afterall. We were only half an hour, at most, away from the farm."

Glen smacked her face with a hand, dragging it down slowly.

"And so I ask again, why the fuck didn't you talk to me about it?"

"Because you looked exhausted!" Shane exclaimed, as if that made everything better.

"Better exhausted than dead, Shane!" Glen snarled again. "God, how'd you even choose a direction, huh? Did you both just toss the motorcycle in the truck and then go, that way?" She gestured vaguely.

"And let's not even _talk_ about the gas we just wasted going in some random ass direction!"

It was a testament to how little both of the men must have been thinking that **that** was the argument that shut them up.

Deflating a little, Glen added. "Do you even know where we are?"

Even if she had just woke up, she felt even more exhausted than the morning when she hadn't slept at all.

"We're at the White Cross Baptist Church." A small voice pipped up behind them.

Glen turned to see Beth looking self conscious. Maggie next to her looking perplexed at her sister.

"And where is that?" Glen asked, her voice a lot quieter.

"Uhm, about forty minutes north of our north entrance... Kinda close to the state border," Beth said.

Fucking wonderful.

"Alright, well, we're already here, so we might as well make the best of everything." Glen sighed, walking two steps before turning back to Shane and Rick. "If you two ever do something that stupid, without consulting with me, I will castrate the both of you."

Shane, at least, paled at that.

Rick looked thoughtful.

"D'you even know how to?"

"We've got Maggie and Beth and Hershel." Glen said, with an eyeroll as she continued on her way back over to the RV. "If I can't figure it out, they'll be there to help me."

Shane and Rick both were horrified, and eyes wided they followed a generous distance behind.

* * *

"We have food and water." T-Dawg reminded everyone, as the planning commenced.

"So long as the RV stands the test of time." Shane said, looking dubiously at the RV that had barely made it where it was.

"We need to find a place to settle down." Rick said firmly.

As if **that** wasn't the stupidest suggestion.

"I tell you what," Glen said with eyes rolling. "You find me a gated community, relatively small, and I'll set up camp right now."

"Closest town is Fayetteville." Andrea pointed out on the map they had in front of them. "That's a bit north."

Glen shook her head, tired of listening to anything anyone said. It was always so easy to watch their mouths spew such predictable garbage.

Happily throwing a wrench in that plan, Glen said. "I'm thinking we should either go east or west."

Andrea and Amy both glared at her.

Everyone was gathered around the trunk bed, where the map was spread. For the most part, giving their opinions, wanted or not. At the very least, they were getting into which direction to go. The children were in the back, playing with some toys, yet they perked up and tried to sound all knowing.

"West!" Sophia pipped up. "We could be cowboys!"

"You'd be a cowgirl." Carl said easily enough.

Which would have been all fine and dandy if the next person hadn't spoken up, killing the cute moment.

"Uhm, there _is_ actually a gated community that way - " Maggie piped up, shimmying in between Daryl and Andrea and placed her finger, daintily, against a spot, an inch away from where her farm was circled. All the way back closer to the farm. "Wiltshire Estates."

It was silent.

Andrea and Maggie blushed and broke apart when they noticed how close they were. Or at least, Andrea did. Maggie didn't looked the least bit bothered. Or if she was bothered, she wasn't showing it like Andrea was. In fact, they shared a small smile before breaking away into their own groups. Sharing one last look, at different times, and both wondering two very separate things: they continued on with their day as if nothing had happened.

Nobody else noticed their moment.

Everyone looked either between Glen or Maggie again, before finally someone said, "Welp."

 _Fuck._ Glen thought. _Fuck me running._

Glen, of course, hadn't thought they would actually _find_ a gated community. Let alone that fast. She thought she would get a little while of freedom, let the idiots hope and dream of some fated gated community. Of a destiny filled with roses and ponies. Never had she thought they knew of one...

Fingers threading through her hair, she allowed her head to bang against the truck.

"Fuck."

* * *

Glen was in the passenger seat next to Rick, who was driving the RV. They had about half an hour before they were going to get close to the gated community that Maggie had pointed out on the map.

They'd decided to take the 'longer' way, because it was at least directly the opposite way the Walkers had seemed to come from.

"We wouldn't have to do this if you hadn't drove a _fucking_ hour away from our next destination." Glen grumbled to herself. Earning a laugh from Daryl behind her. Who was only inside the RV because the motorcycle was also low on gas.

"I know, alright?" Rick said, hands tightening on the steering wheel. "We made a mistake."

"Yes, you did, and I'm never ever going to let you live it down."

Pettily she crossed her arms. "Never. As long as I live."

"Don't you think that's a little petty?" Rick asked.

It was then that the front of the RV started steaming.

Glen tried to keep calm. Tried being the operative word. As they stuttered to a stop, Glen stone faced and cold, Rick sweating bullets, it all seemed to come together.

"Glen - "

She held up a hand.

_They were going to die._

Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But they were going to die.

And Glen honestly wasn't sure if that thought made her sad.

"No, Rick," Glen said, as she got up out of her seat. "I don't think I'm being petty. Not at'all."

* * *

The RV was done for.

None of them knew what the hell they were doing and since they had lost both Dale and the other mechanic, Glen couldn't be bothered to remember the name of a man she knew for all of two seconds, they were officially down to just the truck and the motorcycle.

Glen's fears were confirmed that Shane had probably killed Dale when he looked absolutely sick that they had no one to fix the RV. He was pale and his hand shook into a fist.

 _Good._ Maybe he'd stop killing people if he saw his actions had consequences for himself.

"We're close enough that we can come back for things." Glen said, hoisting her backpack out of the side compartment. "It's not the end of the world."

"No, that happened a month ago." Amy pipped up.

That was actually kind of clever, Glen thought with a scowl, but didn't say so because she was a **tad** bit pissed.

"Think we'll need anything?" Andrea asked as she exited the RV.

"I think we should be good." Shane answered shakily before Glen did. After a short glare Glen conceded that no, they wouldn't be able to carry it all anyway.

"Lock it up. We've got a while to walk."

"Walk?" More than one person asked, but Glen wasn't turned to see them.

"Walk." Glen confirmed.

"We **have** the truck." Carol said, confused.

"And there is not enough room in the truck for all of us." Glen said with an eyeroll. "Daryl you take the motorcycle and go on ahead. Circle back if the routes clear, we'll be walking."

"Is there a reason we're leaving the truck?"

Glen sighed and then said. "It's empty."

"But." Andrea said, as Amy added. "We have fuel."

Shane and Rick's faces both fell.

"Uh. No... No, we don't."

Andrea rounded on Shane. "What do you mean 'no we don't'?"

"The truck's running on fumes." Glen confided in the group. "We might make it a ways, but who knows when it'll stop?"

There was a moment where everyone just kind of stared at her. Then at Shane and Rick. Their eyes switching between everyone. No anger. Not yet.

"You what?" Amy said, voice shaky.

"What," Glen smirked sardonically, "You think I just like to yell at Shane and Rick for stupid ass decisions for no reason?"

Apparently, everyone had.

"They were stupid enough to use what gas we had on some stupid trek, I thought they deserved a talking to about it." Glen said with a shrug. "Now, are we done bitching? We have a long way to walk."

Maggie looked ready to argue, but Glen finished her thought.

"And we have the kids."

After that, nobody could really argue. At least, not while looking at the two faces of Carl and Sophia and knowing they would be the weakest links. To be protected. Without a car.

* * *

Daryl only went a few miles ahead, before doubling back.

"Best bet is keeping close." Daryl said as soon as he was close enough. "The roads are clear but..."

And this is where Glen's knowledge of Daryl came into place. It was clear he wasn't feeling right leaving them. Something was making him feel like they weren't safe. So. She did all she could do. She believed him.

"Stick with us then." Glen said, hoisting her pack up. "We've always done better in a group."

Which was a blatant lie, but it was Glen's way of speaking to Daryl without directly speaking.

And he heard her. Load and clear.

"Good." He said, following.

* * *

No matter what anyone said, or did, Glen was adamant on one thing: The kids were stronger than they looked.

She saw it in the way that Sophia stopped every so often to pick a flower, to run to catch up to one of the adults. In the way that Carl would sometimes get red in his face, as if he had forgotten momentarily, how to breath, rubbing his chest gently, but continued walking. They rarely complained. Not like they used to at camp.

No. They were flexible, they learned at an alarming rate, they soaked everything in and then turned it all around on anyone willing to listen.

Glen and Daryl were somewhere in the middle of the group, with the children running ahead. They still had a lot of energy, relatively, since it was still pretty early. So most everyone could only watch in amusement, watching closely so that amusement didn't turn into something darker.

"Sunflowers only come in yellow, **stupid** ," Sophia scowled at Carl when he told her the flower she held wasn't a sunflower. Which it wasn't, it was a bunch of large red wild flowers, but Carol was quick to jump on her for her language.

"We don't call people stupid, honey," Her mother warned, softly.

Which only made Sophia scowl.

"Well, **he is**."

Glen hid a smile behind her fist, because she wasn't going to be the one who fed into 'bad behavior' even if she knew Sophia had heard worse from her own lips. Daryl on the other hand looked a little grossed out.

"What?" She asked him.

"Everyone's always babyin' those kids." He said, in a low voice. "Ain't no reason for it. Not now."

"You're right." Glen said, but with a fond smile as she watched the kids. "But that's just how it is with parents. And... I donno, I don't think they're doing too bad."

"Bad? No."

Daryl paused.

"But bad might be good for these kids."

Glen was quiet because, of course, Daryl was right.

Because the kids might be alright, but what was that at the end of the day if they didn't live to see it?

* * *

There were only five Geeks. One was pretty well emancipated into the side of the road, nothing more than a groaning, moaning blob. Shane had dispassionately taken care of it. The next two had come stumbling out of the woods together, one dragging the other because of the handcuffs they wore.

Those two gave everyone a fright and the children were pulled in closer to the middle of the group, but the threat was quickly dispatched. T-Dawg and Shane stepping forward. Herschel stared a long while as they walked past the two dead bodies, and even Glen wasn't privy to any one thought that man could be having. He finally moved after Maggie grabbed his hand and pulled.

The last three Walkers had actually been a surprise.

Nobody had seen them until it was too late. They'd been behind a three car pile up. One underneath a truck and the other two behind the truck's bed. Too close, it was every man for themselves.

Andrea saw the first one. "Watch out!"

A hand reached out, snagging on Carl's shoe laces and that was when all hell broke loose.

"No!" Rick snarled, pulling the kid and yanking a knife from his holster to stab through the monster's brain. In that chaos, the others made themselves known, and took advantage of the group's momentary distraction.

"Ahhh!" Amy screamed, backing up and falling over herself as one came snarling towards her.

"No!" Andrea yelled, but she was too far.

The two were fairly strong, probably just newly turned by their draped innards. Amy was quick to lock her elbows and push against the chest coming towards her. The moaning. The groaning right in her ear loud. Shane arrived first and took care of the one not ontop of Amy. Daryl yanked the other by it's hair and stabbed it straight through its brain.

Afterwards, everyone leaned against a few scattered trees, getting their breath.

Rick checked Carl over multiple times, tears of frustration in his eyes. Carol wondered over with Sophia clutched tight to help. But her help wasn't what the father needed. Rick just needed to deal with the world. Get a grip on it. He had to learn to deal or else he would never be able to.

Glen didn't say as much, as she caught her breath, but she watched silently as Carol was shoo'd away. As Shane watched Rick curiously and worriedly.

For a moment, a moment that lasted as Rick hugged Carl tight, she wondered what it would have been like had she been different. Less sure. Less of a pain in the ass. Less of a take-no-nonsense kind of person. Would that man, as unstable as he was, have tried to take on leadership headon? Would he have succeeded? Would Lori have died? Would he somehow have prevented it? Would any of them have?

Daryl and she made a brief moment of eye contact, before each hoisted their respective packs.

"Alright, let's go." Glen shouted, as quiet as she could. "We're losing daylight."

* * *

The gates were what everyone saw first.

The children were the ones who said anything.

"Look!" Carl said, pointing. "A fence."

"And it looks untouched!" Sophia added, running forward.

The adults were noticeably more reserved but Daryl and Glen shared a look, one of their famous ones that still said more about them than what it said to each other, before jogging after them. Their conversation about the children fresh in their minds.

Reaching the fence, it was clear that the children were right. The fence was right as rain. Made of solid stone and a sturdy kind of grout. It was built for easthetics, but it was tall and built and undamaged. Surprising as that was, with all the cars that seemed to have crashed near them and around them.

"Where do you think they lead, miss Glen?" Sophia asked, ever polite. Her small hand had automatically linked through Glens the moment the woman was close enough.

Carl didn't try the same thing with Daryl, but he stuck close enough.

The small group continued ahead of the larger group behind them.

"Its a gated community," Glen said. Sophia nodded, sagely, as if she understood what exactly that meant. Trailing their fingers on the fence, they reached the bend.

It was locked shut, not with a chain, but with a solid, sophisticated locking-machine, kind of like what you'd have found at apartment building gates, that had to have been there the entire time, way before the world's end. Running her hand along it, Glen marveled that it had survived the times. And that nobody else had tried to break it.

 _Was there a reason for that,_ Glen wondered as her fingers lingered.

"Would you lookit that," Rick said, coming around, leaning on Andrea.

"What are the odds?" Maggie grumbled, walking closer to her sister, holding her even close. It was clearly said sarcastically. They'd been looking for the place afterall.

The sister looked wide-eyed. "I thought for sure this place would have been the first to fall."

"You guys were the one to suggest it..." Andrea complained under her breath. Beth glared for a moment.

"Suggesting it was one thing. Actually seeing it up and standing?" Maggie said, not taking her eyes from the brick wall. "Well. That's different.

"True." T-Dawg said thoughtfully. "Who used to live her anyway? Looks fancy."

"It was a really high end neighborhood. Billionaires and stuff. I used to babysit for a few of them..."

"High end, huh?" Daryl said just as he took a jump, catching the topmost part of the gate. "Sounds good to me."

With a grunt, he hoisted himself to the side, onto the fence. He took a moment, looking over the edge. Pulling out a can from his bag, he grabbed a few loose bits and pieces around his feet, and shook it. The sounds was deafening to the group even though it was small.

Daryl waited a few more seconds, turned his head, waited a few more, before turning back to talk to them.

"Might be clear, donno. Nothing in the immediate area."

"Can you open the gate?" Glen asked.

"Could." Daryl responded, looking back to the other side. "Should I?"

It was a good question, solid really. But they had left without supplies and they desperately needed some. Food and water just to start, and anything else they could get their hands on. Cars. Gas. If they could. Plus, there were kids and wounded. Any surprise attack would decimate them. Or at the very least scatter them. Their chances of survival would be slim to none.

"How about a group goes in first?" Andrea suggested.

Everyone liked that plan, nods all around.

"I'll go," Beth said, stepping away from her sister. She was the first to speak after asking for people, and everyone could only look at her blankly. Even Glen was a little hesitant. The asian american had lumped her with the kids easily enough. Or a liability. Plus, she'd tried killing herself only a few days ago. Was this another attempt?

Glen was pretty perceptive she liked to think, so she watched as everyone else grilled her.

"What help could you be Beth?" Maggie demanded, rolling her eyes. Her sister visibly flinched but then gathered herself up and glared at her sister.

"I can do just as much as any of you," It was said in a small voice, but there was bite.

That had Glen's eyebrows raising.

Narrowing her eyes, maybe this **was** something else.

"Now, Beth," T-dawg said. "It's not like that. Just... what if something were to happen -"

The girl was whilting in on her self, self-doubt and despair welling up. Glen had seen it a thousand times. A hundred. Glen had been somewhat like this girl. She wasn't about to let it happen right in front of her just cause nobody wanted to give her a shot. The girl wouldn't have said anything if she didn't want to go.

"Fine."

Glen's voice was a sharp contrast to just about everyone else in the group's own. For one, she was loud, perhaps too loud, and she was positive.

"It's not like it's a suicide mission."

Maggie tried to pull her sister back, real fear on her face. "Hey you can't -"

Glen fitted her with a stare that said she really, really, really didn't care.

"She looks fit enough to run back here if anything does happen. This is recon. We're being quiet anyway."

Everyone was quiet.

"She's coming." Glen's word was final. And law. The power she had over these people sometime surprised her, but it made her feel a little better. About her life. About what it meant to survive. Gave her a purpose.

Missus President was right.

Beth stared at her. Glen could feel Daryl's eyes on her back. Staring through her. As if figuring her out.

"Come on," Glen said, well aware of the power she held. Everyone was either in shock or was respectful enough of her authority that they let Beth walk forward, or terrified of her. Glen liked to think it was the latter, but knew it was probably the first option more than anything. For Maggie, the shock was palpable.

Glen didn't know why. Even to these people, she had proved herself anyway.

Walking forward slowly but surely, Beth squared her shoulders. It was clear, perhaps only to Glen and Daryl, that this was the first time she had ever actually fought for something. Even if the fight had been nothing more than giving herself a chance to have time alone. Glen gave her an approving look, then cupped her hands and lowered herself to hike the smaller girl up to Daryl.

"You got this?" She asked the hunter and the girl both.

"She can't weigh more than ninety soaking wet." Was his response.

Beth only nodded.

Looking only marginally scandalized but dutiful, Beth stepped into Glen's hands, was given only a second to adjust, another second to give a nod, before the asian tossed her upwards to Daryl. The redneck hunter grabbed her by both her hands and helped her up. As soon as Beth was straddling the wall, then Glen shoved her hand forward and the lean man dragged her up too.

Staring over at the houses on the other side of the wall, it was immediately clear why Daryl hadn't opened the door when she asked. But why he had allowed them to go inside.

The streets were strewn with dead bodies. Most from bullets, quite a few more from bites, and then many, many more who were just too mangled to really tell. With how small the community was, it was clear that this was probably all there was.

Perhaps a few more walkers hiding behind houses and such, but that was it.

Beth only stared. Caught up somewhere in that head of hers. Thinking thoughts Glen could barely even imagine.

Glen squared her shoulders and flipped to start shimmying down the fence.

"Let's go."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all she wrote, folks! :) If you enjoyed it, hated it, have VERY strong feelings about any part of it; please don't hesitate to review! I love reviews! I pour over them in the dark of night and smile to myself, they really do keep me going. Knowing people are reading and enjoying it. And the favorites and the follows are nice too, but there is something about the dialogue between reviews that just pushes me to do better.
> 
> Hugs and Butterfly kisses,
> 
> Jay


	22. Over the Fence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inside the fence, things are better than anyone could hope for. Deserted, empty, and most of all: Safe. That's not to say Glen feels safe. Tempers flare and everyone tries to believe in this gated community that landed in their lap like an answered prayer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Seven months, huh? That's... that's a long time. I have had a fight with this story, neither of us won, but I think I lost... less? I am still unsure if I have gotten it to cooperate with me, but at the very least I have this chapter and another written.  
> Canon events and also a timeline for, uhm, a plotpoint.... has just kind of made this story ridiculous. BUT! I think I have gotten it. Now I just gotta write it. So. Yeah? Ah, what can I say, just enjoy!

The houses inside the fence were beautiful. Nothing lower than a three story in the entire neighborhood. Long driveways, wide open spaces, a park, and about half-as-few cars as Glen thought there would be. That didn’t account for the garages of course, but still.

It took them an hour to scope out the entire neighborhood. They jogged the sidewalks and found close to nothing. A house had a walker, but the door was closed, there were sounds coming from one of the garages, but honestly it wasn’t a problem. Everything was mostly clear. Even if they technically didn’t check every nook and cranny it wouldn’t truly matter. They could fight off a walker or two. 

Daryl and Glen shared a look of approval.

“So...” Beth asked, staring at a pretty mansion on the right side of the street. “What’s the verdict?”

“As safe as we’re going to get,” Glen groused, but secretly she was pretty pleased with this place. 

“Alright,” Daryl said.

It was smaller than the farm, which made it technically easier to defend. At around maybe seventy houses, it was roomy and had plenty of room to grow. Lots of open backyards, fences, and water. It was ideal.

If Glen was into that kind of thing, of course. Safety. A place to stay for a long period of time. A place to grow roots.

Which she wasn’t. At least, she’d never really admit it to herself if she were.

“We bringin’ everyone in?”

“Yeah,” Glen admitted, after looking over everything in their immediate area again, “I think so.”

Beth beamed and quickly started talking about the most spacious houses, the best one to set up in for the night.

“The blue one had that pretty porch, but not a whole lot of windows on the ground floor, that's good right? Of course it is - “

Daryl and Glen hung back and watched her walking forward with a smile.

“It’s better than the farm in a lot of ways,” Daryl admitted. “And a lot worse.”

Glen wasn’t sure if he was talking about the lack of forest, or the food source, or the contaminated water, but she wasn’t sure she cared at the moment. She was tired. It had been a long and trying day.

“We’re staying long enough to figure things out or we’ll be staying indefinitely,”

By indefinitely, she, of course, meant as their grave yard.

* * *

The first house they found was the one they picked.

Not wanting to let anyone know they were there, Daryl and Glen took their time helping everyone over the fence, leaving behind only footprints that lead off into the woods.

“Wow,” Carl said, twirling around in a circle to look at the vaulted ceiling. “This is so cool!”

Rick smiled indulgently as both Carl and Sophia both took off running. Each wanting to find their own room for the night. Or maybe for a week. 

Or forever.

Glen felt all tense and awkward thinking that. Thinking of anything past five minutes from now.

“It’s clean, right?” Carol asked, worried as she watched the kids run off.

“Daryl, Beth, and I all checked each room and each closet,” Glen said. 

Beth adding, “Everything in  **this** house, at the very least is good to go,” 

That appeased everyone and they broke off into their respective ‘groups’.

It seemed the little excursion had done Beth some good, because she was participating, actively, in their conversations. She told bits and pieces to her own family of what she had seen, about one of the houses she had picked out that would be perfect for them, and defended their choice of house with the best of them. Daryl on the other hand, had gone pretty silent, watching out the window in the front. On guard.

“Hey, Glen, can I talk to you for a sec?” 

It was Maggie. She’d extricated herself from her family and was standing off a little to the side.

_ Here we go. _

“Sure?” Glen said, feeling exhausted, but knowing her work was never done.

They walked just into the kitchen, an open area that looked like something out of a cooking show. It was beautiful. Maggie’s face was not.

“Ok, what did you want to talk about... away from your family?” Glen asked, turning to see Maggie looking defensive.

“I wanted to know what your deal with Beth is,” 

“... My deal with Beth is...?” Glen repeated, already feeling exhausted. “Ok, first, lets just talk about how you apparently think I have something going with Beth?”

“You do,” Maggie said firmly.

“No, I don’t,”

“Then why’d you take her with you today?”

Glen stared at her, uncomprehending for a second. “Because... she volunteered?”

“Because you let her go with you!” Maggie hissed, arms crossed and looking over her shoulder as she made sure her sister didn’t hear. “How could you do that?”

“Okay, wait, I’m the bad guy here, because I took your sister,” Glen paused, looking meaningfully at the ceiling for strength, “An adult might I remind you, at her word, and let her come with us?”

Maggie faltered for half a second before nodding. That just pissed Glen off even more. No matter that soft spot in her chest that saw the defense for what it was - caring in any kind - she shrugged it all off and went on the offensive. For her sake, if not Beth as well.

“ **Fuck** off, Maggie.” Glen snarled. “Beth wants a chance to prove herself. She doesn't need you protecting her.” 

“She always needs me!"

“Your sister doesn’t need you to hold her hand and I’m honestly too tired to deal with anymore bullshit today,”

“No!” Maggie stalked forward, grabbing her arm. “This is my sister we’re talking about!”

Glen glared at her until Maggie loosened her grip a finger.

“Yeah, and don’t you think you should talk to Beth about your issues with her?’

Maggie spluttered. “I don’t have any issues with  **her** , it’s you I have an issue with!”

“What’s going on here?”

It was Beth. Behind her Rick.

Maggie faltered, but her face stayed hard. Glen yanked her arm out of her grasp. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Beth asked, calmly.

Oh. She had heard everything. Glen knew it in a second. That calm face. Those hard eyes. Crossed arms over chest. The eyes only for her sister.

_ Good _ . At least someone else was dealing with their shit instead of plopping it on her plate.

“Rick,” She said, exiting by Beth. 

“What?”

“Come with me, these two need to work some things out.”

Bless his heart, but he looked honestly confused why they would want privacy. Glen usher him away though. They didn't need to be caught in that.  And based on the raised but hushed voices as she reached the living room where Daryl had still not moved, it was going to be a blow out. Could even tear the sisters apart for a while. 

_Great. Awesome._ Glen thought dispassionately, feeling a cold kind of numbness creeping in. That was two sets of sisters at odds with each other.

“What was that about?” 

“You don’t want to know, Rick,” Glen said, as she heard something shatter. “Believe me, you don’t want to know.”

* * *

“What on earth is wrong with you?” Beth asked, but didn’t look straight into Maggie’s eyes until Glen was well and truly gone.

“I’m your big sister,” Maggie said with a smile, straightening and trying to push back her feelings of guilt. “I’m here to protect you.”

“No, why’d you go after Glen?” Beth looked confused, conflicted. “What did she do that lead you to talk about... about  _ me _ ?”

“I just told her what I thought of you scouting with them,” Maggie said firmly, like their mother used to.

“What, that you didn’t want me to?”

“Yes,”

“And why the hell should that matter?” Beth demanded, swiping her arm in a wide arc. Accidentally hitting a vase. It teetered and tottered before stilling. Maggie flinched. “I’m an adult, Maggie. I can make my own decisions. I made them today, didn’t I? Or weren’t you watching?”

Maggie huffed and drew herself up. “All I saw was you being pressured into a situation you had no place being put!”

“No place being put?” Beth repeated before shaking her head sadly. “Maggie, nobody's supposed to be in any of these situations. You think those people wanted to be in the position they’re in?

...You think  **we** wanted to be?”

“That's not the same,” Maggie snarled. “You're my sister. I’m here to protect you. And if you’d just have waited a few more minutes, I coulda done just that - “

Beth interrupted, stomping her foot.

“That’s not the point Maggie! I didn’t  **want** you to protect me!”

Maggie’s voice died in her throat. _What?_

The words echoed Glen’s only moments before, but they shattered Maggie's heart.

“We’re out in the world now, Maggie.” Beth said, breathing deeply and staring outside to the darkness. “We’re not protected by anyone or anything and I’m scared about it just as much as anybody I guess - but I am sick of being thought of as an invalid.”

Maggie was still speechless.

“Cause, that’s all I am, isn’t it?” Beth spat. “Maggie’s little, stupid sister. And don’t deny it, Mag’s, that’s how it’s always been,”

“Beth...”

“No, you don’t  **get** to do that,” Beth said, shaking her head and throwing her hands out wildly. “You don’t get to get all sad when you just dragged my name through the mud in front of Glen, a stranger we’ve only known for a few weeks, the leader of these people!”

“That’s not what I meant - ”

“It’s  _ never _ what you mean, Maggie!” Beth snarled for one final time, rubbing her eyes, as the tears began to form. “It’s always been this way and I’ve been too weak and scared and apathetic to do anything about it. But no more. I’m not going to be weak anymore,” 

Maggie felt her throat dry up as Beth straightened her shoulders, shoved her chin forward, and snarled.

“No more,”

With that, Beth stalked off into the other room.

* * *

There were five rooms, so everyone just had to share with one other person, if not two others. Since Rick and Shane had Carl, and Hershel and Maggie and Beth were all together, that left three other rooms. T-Dawg managed to get his own room. That left Amy and Andrea bunking together and Daryl and Glen in one of the smaller rooms.

Since they were in a house, defense was easy. They only needed one person on watch. Maggie volunteered, not meeting the eyes of any of her family. Which meant tomorrow she would be sleeping. An easy way to avoid her problems, it seemed.

So, Glen was left relatively alone with Daryl. 

And for the first time in a long time, they shared a look, collapsed on the bed, curled up with each other, and slept.

No words. No worries. No talk about stupidity or what all had just happened today. Nothing.

And that,  **that** was what made them a good team.

* * *

Hershel and Beth stayed up late, way later than anyone else in the house save for Maggie.

To the strangers, this was just another shitty event in life. Losing a safe place. Having to move. Being displaced. But for the farmers, it was new and it hurt and neither knew what to say to the other to make it alright. Because it wasn't alright. They had lost their home. The place that they had lived. Beth her entire life and Herschel for most of it. They lost the safety net, their animals, their way of life, their sustainability.

And they couldn’t even blame it on the strangers. On the group that they were now thrown together with.

In fact, they should probably thank them.

But Beth wasn’t sure how that would be taken and Herschel just plain refused. To thank them for saving them... it was a validation he wasn’t ready to give Glen. Nor the group.

“I never thought we’d lose the farm,” Beth said in the darkness. The silence heavy with breathing. “Not to tax collectors. Not to Walkers. Not to anybody.”

Herschel was silent. He was silent a lot nowadays. Beth hoped he’d start talking when he had something to say. And she hoped that was soon.

“And you know, Daddy, maybe it was the wake up call we needed,” Beth mused quietly. “Maybe... Maybe this is God’s way of getting us off our asses and moving. Maybe... Maybe this is a way for us to get something out of this life.”

“Go to sleep, Beth,” Herschel said, rolling over on his bed. “There’s time enough to question that.”

Beth stayed quiet. Neither of them going to sleep.

Though, the amount of tears that had been shed had quadrupled.

* * *

Andrea stared at the ceiling. Amy snoring in her ear. Her younger sister had a habit of sprawling out on beds, but kept herself contained in the tent. It was the only reason she hadn’t been murdered by her older sister. And it was also one of the reasons she couldn’t sleep.

_ What now? _ Andrea can’t help but think.

They had reached ‘civilization’ and had walls. A future, if they were brave enough and strong enough to take it. Sure, the farm had been large and well liked, but defensible it wasn’t. This place was. Or at least, it looked it enough. 

_ So.... where did they go from here?  _

Andrea had never actually thought any further than the next day. The next hour. She trained to protect, because you never knew what was going to happen. And in some ways, that was still true, but now... Now Andrea had to actually think about the future. Because for the first time in a long time, a future looked possible.

“You’r’thinkin’to’loud,” Her sister mumbled to her. Andrea jumped. “Go’ta’sleep.”

“Shush,” Andrea said automatically, hand coming to pet through her sister's hair. “I’ll go to sleep when I go to sleep.”

“Now,” Amy mumbled, pulling her down further on the pillows, even scooting over a little to give her room.

“Fine,” Andrea said. Secretly completely okay with finally sleeping. Maybe then her mind would be silent.

Except it wasn’t so, and she was awake for a long while yet.

* * *

T-Dawg knew he wasn’t exactly wanted by half the group. Glen and Daryl probably still despised him. He knew he deserved it. Hell, he knew and he more than accepted the reason. It was one of the reasons he didn’t spend too much time around anyone when either of them were in the area. He took painstaking steps to be as far away from them as possible for their own comfort. If they forgot he exists, then he’d done his job.

In the meantime, he’d spent a lot of time with Dale and was now reeling from missing that connection to humanity. The old man had been wise and calm, and easy. He didn’t hold grudges and he didn’t hold it against T-Dawg that Merle was dead because of him. Honestly, most times, they’d not even talked.

It was hard to talk for T-Dawg. Because every time he opened his mouth, somebody was glaring at him.

_ Was it time to consider leaving? _

T-Dawg shook his head.  _ No _ . They’d just gotten someplace safe. Walled in. He could go find his own house and become a hermit. Well. At least until other people came around.

He chuckled to himself.

_Let’s be real._ There was a better chance of finding someone friendly than for Glen and Daryl to ever forgive him.

* * *

The farm would usually be settling down, the animals setting into the hay and grass in their padlocks and coops. The lack of noise, as much a silence as the brief but sudden noises by the animals, wasn’t lost on Maggie. In fact, this was the first night she had ever spent away from the Farm knowing she would never return.

Or at least, not to anything worth worrying about. Not to Daisy, her horse she’d had since she’d been a little girl. Not to the chicken coop. Not to the house or the barn or Patricia or Jimmy.

It left her far too much space inside her head. For thinking. For listening. For watching.

For knowing she had made a big mistake with her sister.

But was it really her fault that she wanted to protect Beth? To protect her sweet, altogether too naive sister, from the big bad world? 

Beth had liked it, hadn’t she? Being protected? At least, Maggie  **thought** she had. But the argument they’d just had... What was she supposed to think? Beth had always been fragile, weak, and impressionable and scared and - 

Maggie had to wipe away a few stray tears. Damnit. When had her sister grown up?

The girl - no, not girl - the woman who had faced up to her in that kitchen had been more than Beth had ever been. Or what Maggie had ever thought Beth would be. Which made her face heat up in embarrassment. Made her realize what an ass she had been.

* * *

Glen awoke feeling distinctly too comfortable.

It was still dark out, so she knew it couldn’t be any later than six thirty, but she didn’t feel her skin crawl or her spine stiffen awaiting a blow. No. It was just quiet. No immediate danger. It  _ could _ have been entirely because of the warm body pressed up against the back of her, but she wasn’t a scientist, and therefore couldn’t rightly answer. She just knew it felt nice.

She felt Daryl’s breath quicken and then expand.

“I don’t think anyone died while we were sleeping,” She greeted him, as she settled in further into to the warmth.

“Don’t count yer chickens yet,” He murmured quietly, unusually lethargic. “Still early.”

Glen snorted but nodded thoughtfully. Both of them just lying and enjoying the peace and the quiet and the ease of the morning. So much so, in fact, that both fell asleep for another hour. Which led to them being awoken by an insistent knock on the door.

“Ugh,” Glen groaned, turning over and shoving her head into Daryl’s armpit. They all smelled bad, so it was easier to find it more of a pleasant place to be than answering the door. Resolutely, she didn’t answer. She swore she wasn’t going to answer unless someone was dying. They were safe, after all. 

“GLEN!” 

It was Sophia.

Damnit.

“Yes?” Glen called back out, her resolve crumbling.

“Momma and Herschel and Maggie made breakfast,” The little voice said.

Glen wasn’t sure what they could make breakfast with, considering the circumstances, but then she smelled it. It was hot and meat and something a little spicy. She couldn’t place the scent, but she didn’t need to. She was wiggling out of the bed along with Daryl as their stomachs gurgled together.

“Coming!” She told Sophia who skipped off to the next door to deliver her message.

* * *

The house they picked had a large living room which was perfect for everyone to fit into.

Though the breakfast could have been better, it was just baked beans, carrots, and chicken (all canned), it altogether wasn’t bad. The kitchen had been fairly well stocked with seasonings and other food that had mostly all rotted and perished. What had been salvaged had been the ‘good stuff’ as Carol had put it.

Nobody really talked the entire time they ate. Tension had apparently escalated between Beth and Maggie last night while it had mellowed between Amy and Andrea. The farm sisters wouldn’t look at each other, while the other two couldn’t stop sharing little smiles, touching shoulders and giggling, and generally being a nuisance.

Glen observed everything and was surprised to find the mood relatively... light. 

Rick and Carl had found a book about starting a garden in the study and the father was using it as a starting point to teach Carl how to plant things, and care for things, and stuff that just had no place in their ‘before’ life. Sophia was sitting close, listening intently as well, though she chimed in when she knew things from her own experience in the garden. Carol watching fondly, sipping her tea she had found in the cupboard. 

All good things had to come to an end, of course.

“How far did you all scout yesterday?” Shane asked, as he had looked like an antsy horse all morning.

“Enough,” Daryl said, never once taking his eyes off the outside world.

“Is the fence intact everywhere?” 

“We didn’t go around the whole perimeter,” Glen said, rolling her eyes. “That would have taken all day,”

Shane’s brown furrowed. “Then why did you say it was safe?”

“Because it’s not swamped with Geeks,” Glen said with a blink. “Besides, what were we going to do if it wasn’t safe? Leave?”

Shane went quiet as that. 

“You do make a good point, though,” Glen said grudgingly. “We need at least a pair to go and check out the fence, see if anything needs to be patched up.”

“I’ll go,” T-Dawg volunteered. 

“Me, too.” Said Beth.

Maggie looked absolutely furious, a lot more subdued than before, but she wisely kept her mouth shut.

“Awesome.” Glen said, nodding to them. “Be back around mid-day, no later, or we’ll send someone out to get you.”

“Shane and I can go looking for cars and gas,” Rick said, pushing the gardening book more fully to Carl. When he vacated his seat, Sophia took it and both the kids gladly sat and read.

“Good idea,” And it was.

“Anything else we need to do?” Glen asked the group. 

“I think whoever stays behind,” Carol said, thoughtfully.  “We should work on fortifying the house.” 

She was quick to add. “ _ Just in case.” _

“I agree,” Daryl said. “I’ve got the outside.” And then he was gone.

“Alright, ok, good we’ve got a plan at least,” Glen said, watching as those assigned jobs left to do them.

Andrea then spoke up. “We’re going to have to go and get the car. See if the RV can be salvaged.”

“Yeah,” Amy said. “Dale...” She choked on the name briefly. “Dale used to say that it would just overheat... that might have been what was wrong with it?”

“Could be,” Glen agreed. “You and Andrea want to take that on? Once Shane and Rick come back with a car, I’d say take one of them with you, for numbers, and go see what you can get.”

Amy looked confused for a second, as she realized that Glen was talking to her. “Me?”

“You suggested it,” Glen said, pointedly. It had been a pattern Glen had been glad to allow everyone to follow. Suggest a play, head it up. Built responsibility.

“Well, yeah, but I was - “

“Whatever.” Glen said, with an eyeroll. “I’ll go then. Andrea and me. You stay and help Carol with fortifying the place.”

Amy blushed bright red, eyes downcast, but she didn’t argue. Andrea on the other hand, looked relieved.

Glen for the most part, just felt relief that everything was going ok. There was a plan, tentatively, and things were looking up. It made her stomach tie in knots, and smooth all at once, but she tried to keep her face blank. For the sheeple. 

* * *

The day was a day for days. Everything went better than anyone could have hoped for. With the loss of the farm, it was a much needed step in the right direction.

Shane and Rick had found a fairly new Ford truck and a Honda Civic. Both topped with gas and they’d found tons of other cars filled up as well. So supply would be good for a while. T-Dawg and Amy both reported in and shared that the walls were solid. No breech, no signs of weakness, and no damage. Herschel, Maggie, Carol, Amy, Glen, and Daryl along with the kids all worked together to put the house in order. They set up a spot on the roof with a good vantage point for defense by nailing a ladder into the side of the house from the half-roof to the roof. Almost all of the windows were glued shut, so that noise and what not was reduced. They’d stripped the house, too, and piled supplies in the living room where Herschel and Carol had begun sorted everything. 

Which had lead to now, Andrea, Glen, and Rick all leaving to get the supplies they’d left on the side of the road.

They chose to take the Ford, because of its bed.

Getting the gate open was a challenge, but Andrea met it with that head-strong no-nonsense way of hers. The kind of way that made it hard for Glen and her to successfully be in the same room without fighting. Finding a key in one of the houses near, hung up all pretty like next to a dozen others, and opening the gate. From there, it was a twenty minute drive.

Rick found that the radio didn’t work, but the last owners of the car had at least had ‘good’ taste in music.

“~Sweet home Alabama!~” Rick sang as Andrea’s fingers clamped on the wheel a little tighter. “~Where the skies are so blue! Sweet home Alabama! Lord I’m coming home to you!~”

“You’re awful,” Glen said, watching the world whiz by.

“Hey, now, that’s uncalled for,” Rick said, with a frown that threatened to turn upwards into a true smile.

“No, it was completely called for,” Andrea said with a snort. Smirking into her fist. “You sound like you need water.”

“Well,” Rick said, touching his throat. “I am a bit parched.”

Glen smiled before seeing what was in front of her. “Ah!” She pointed, getting in between the two front seats. “Jackpot.”

The RV and the Truck sat exactly as they left it. The RV’s hood up, the piece of tape that Glen had thought to place on the screen door still in tact. Nobody else had come upon the vehicles. At least, they hadn’t entered through the most obvious entrances, if they had.

“Huh, maybe it was just overheated,” Glen said, cocking her head as she open the door and stepped outside. 

“I got the RV,” Rick said, closing the door behind him as he walked forward to the RV’s front door. Slamming the hood shut as he walked. Climbing into the cab, he disappeared, then the sound of an engine turning. A sputtering. Then another try. Then, the engine turned over. 

Andrea and Glen both had been holding their breath, and let them out in a whoosh of relief. 

“Good to go!” Rick said, with a smile, as he leaned happily out the window closest to them.

“Well, I’ll be.” Andrea said, shaking her head as she turned to the truck. “Looks like we don’t need to be all that careful after all.”

Glen, of course, had to agree. 

* * *

That night, the atmosphere was different.

People talked. There was a general feel of goodwill. The children laughed loudly and without stopping. Happiness. Glen didn’t think the people would bounce back that fast from such a disaster as losing the farm, but it seemed she was wrong. 

_Well._ She was wrong about her people, anyway. 

The farmers were still mostly morose. Herschel still hadn’t said a word to her. Maggie was quiet, reserved, and staring out a window unless she was staring at her food, and Beth was the only one trying. Which said something, because just weeks ago she’d been  _ trying _ to kill herself.

Perhaps there was something to learning how beautiful life was to someone who was on the cusp. On the edge, ready to jump. Beth had pulled herself back, after all. 

Maggie and Hershel had yet to do the same.

“So I said to ‘em,” Andrea had a huge smile plastered to her face. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

Beth chuckled, more of a giggle-snort, and leaned back. “That’s pretty savage, Andrea.”

“What can I say?” Andrea said, tilting back her glass and finishing off her water. “He was bad in bed.”

“Oh god,” Amy said, hiding her face in her hands. “Soooo, did not need to know that.”

“It was so worth it, though.”

Glen could only watch in amusement as Beth blushed deeply.

“New topic, new topic.” She said, waving Andrea into something else.

At the same time as their conversation was going on, Shane and Rick were sharing stories from the glory days. Rehashing stupid arrests, daring heroics, and idiot guy stuff. They were too far away for Glen to really catch the specifics, but she knew it was something she wouldn’t care for.

The people inside the house were matching it’s bright exterior. Yet, Glen wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

So much so, she bowed out early to go and get some fresh air. 

* * *

“You leave a lot.” Shane said.

Glen didn’t really pay much attention to him, but as she felt his presence come closer, she realized he was coming to talk to her. Not just speak in her general direction. Great.

“I’m peopled out,” Glen said.

“Stay’d longer than I thought you would,” Shane mused.

Glen shot him a look. 

“You an expert on me, now?”

Shane chuckled darkly. 

“Ain’t we all, oh illustrious leader?”

“Please tell me y’all don’t call me that behind my back,” Glen sighed, with a glare.

Shane shook his head. “Just me.”

“Good. Keep it that way,”

And she continued staring off the porch into the darkness.

She could feel the darkness creeping up on her. The emotionless. The bleakness. The unfeeling. It made it both easier and harder to breath as all she was able to do was contemplate the world. Contemplate and try to stay alive. 

It’s a new world. Glen had to admit it. This world she found herself in wasn’t anything like what she thought it would be. The apocalypse. There were too many things trying to kill her, not enough willing to help. A small part of her wanted to stomp her foot and snivel about how unfair it all was. But Glen knew it would be useless. The world was rarely fair. The world was rarely kind. 

But Glen would be fucked if she ever, for longer than a minute, allowed herself to dwell on that.

“There it is,” Shane said, interrupting her, but not pulling her back. At her blank look, he explained. “You’re always getting this sad expression on your face. Hopeless or whatever.”

“Hmm.” Glen hummed.  _ Where was he going with this? _

It was hard to focus on what he was saying. As flashes of memories assaulted her. In fact, she didn’t hear a thing he said as she sat and wallowed in whatever it was that had managed to get its claws in her heart. Was it depression? Anxiety? Glen didn’t know, it came and went though, whenever it wanted, however long it wanted. Like a fat cat.

“ - listening?” Shane asked, catching her in a rare moment of consciousness.

Glen was immediately annoyed with him.  _ Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? _ Just be a silent pillar like Daryl was. She turned, that spark awakening anger inside of her, only to be stopped short as Shane closed the distance between them.

Make no mistake, Glen’s sex life was completely non-existent, and her kissing-life was even  **more** so. So, when Shane dove in headfirst and clutched her close, the only thing she could think was that she was being attacked. Unfortunately, Shane was already kissing her when her brain managed to catch onto that fact, so the push of her arms was ineffective until she pulled away and slapped him.

Hard. So hard his face flew.

“What the absolute hell?” Glen spat, wiping at her mouth.

“You weren’t listening to me,” Shane said, completely unapologetic. Perhaps a tad sheepish.

“So what, you kiss Rick when he’s not listening to you?” She demanded.

Realizing her mistake a second too late as Shane’s expression became thoughtful, Glen threw her hands into the air. “Never mind. Just. What the fuck, seriously?”

“So that’s a no on the attraction?” Shane said.

“That’s a fucking _**hell** _ no,”

“Alright, alright,” Shane said, backing up with his hands raised. “Won’t do it again.”

“Damn right you won’t.” Glen snarled.

“You’re at least back on the same planet, that’s gotta count for something, right?” Shane asked.

“I was  **thinking** you asshole!”

“No you weren’t,”

“Yes, yes I was,”

“No, you weren’t - “

“Shut the fuck up Shane, before I get seriously pissed,” Glen snapped, cutting him off. “And I was thinking. I just.. Was thinking very deeply.”

“Yeah, and my name’s Daryl,” Shane said, rolling his eyes. “Well, maybe T-Dawg. If I was Daryl, I’ve a feeling you would have responded a bit better to the kiss.”

“No, I would have slapped him, too,” Glen said, getting angrier and angrier by the second.

“Sure you would have,” Shane said, smiling as he walked off, back around the porch where he had come from.

“What the fuck was that about?” Glen asked herself when he was gone, head cradled in her hands as she looked out over the row of pretty, mansion sized houses in front of her. “What. The. Absolute. Fuck.”

Nobody answered.

At the very least, though, Glen thought, the darkness had ebbed away in the face of her incredulity. 

\--------

That night, she told Daryl that Shane had kissed her. He was quiet for all of a second.

“... Did you ask him too?” 

“No,” She shook her head. “He did it to get my attention, or at least that’s what he said. I was spaced out, he apparently thought it would be smart to kiss me out of my funk.”

“That’s stupid,” Daryl said, but his muscles were way more tense than usual.

“Yes it was,”

“Didja at least slap him?”

“Of course, who do you think I am?”

“That’s ma girl,”

And then they shared a moment of silence that was more charged than any silence had ever been between Shane and her. Or ever would be. 

“Just so aggravating,” Glen said, unable to stop herself. “Sometimes I feel like that’s all Shane sees. Boobs or a dick.”

Daryl snorted. An amused snort.

“So what you're saying is he sees you as a dick?” Daryl said with a shit eating grin.

Glen shoved him. Before bursting out laughing. 

“It would explain why he  _ kissed _ me but slept with Amy and Andrea.”

Daryl laughed uproariously.

"Always knew you had a dick, just knew it was inside ya,"

Glen made a face.

"I do  **not** want to think of that.”

Daryl laughed again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alls going sooooooo well :))) *makes an innocent, perfectly angelic face*  
> Next chapter we get into some... rather fun plot points involving girls, boys, and the birds and the bees!!


	23. Bumpy Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a whole new world Glen and co. find themselves in. They are safe and it seems too good to be true. Within a day they are treated to newcomers that are too familiar for comfort and a shock that catches everyone in the know by surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have finally decided how I want to end this story. Mostly because I have sat staring at a blank word document far, far too long and this story needs to have an ending, closure if you will. I have about 3-4 more chapters written and will be released in the next... month or two? And then I do believe this story will be done!  
> I have yet to decide if I want to write a sequel, but if I do it's going to take some time. I want to plan it out before really getting down and dirty with the plot.
> 
> In the mean time - Enjoy!

 

"We need to get out and explore." Rick brought up the next morning.

Carol agreed, which lead Glen to believe they'd talked about it.

"Daryl and I will do it." Glen downed her water. "We can get on it... well, now."

"Why not have more groups out there? It's safe outside, isn't it?" Shane asked, eyebrow raised.

Glen shook her head and teased. "What's really safe,"

Shane crossed his arms. "You said so yourself."

"Yeah, great, let's just all split up, sounds like a great idea." Glen said. " **Not**."

"We've got this." Daryl said, hoisting his crossbow from its place on the floor to his shoulder. From there it was just a matter of getting out of the house before anyone else could complain.

* * *

Daryl and Glen walked down the road. It was a cute little cul de sac. Looked hardly touched. Untouched by the madness outside it's walls. By the madness inside it, either. There was only one body, but it was half in a ditch, so neither of them thought much of the human it used to be.

"Think everyone just up and left?" Glen asked, looking into a parked green, jeep's windows.

Daryl didn't even stop walking. "No."

Glen laughed, a short humorless thing. "Yeah, me too."

They passed a few houses. Each different as could be. Yellow. Blue. Brick. Orange roof. There were dozens of cars, but each as abandoned as the last. Which... was baffling. How had people left? Where were they? If the cars were here, was there some house that just had a hundred Walkers ready to jump them?

Glen didn't know.

Looking around, the place looked idyllic. But it wasn't ideal. It was a ghost town. A fenced in cemetery missing the bodies. So silent that Glen was starting to feel claustrophobic.

Then a sound. A lone little crash. A ways up the road.

Glen and Daryl both froze, tossing themselves bodily behind a large white van, crashing together silently.

They waited, listening for further sounds, barely breathing. Nothing came. At least, not as loud.

"Geeks?" Glen asked, crouching arm-to-arm with Daryl. He was hot, too, and it was semi-uncomfortable, but moving wasn't an option. They'd been in worse situations too.

He shrugged, eyes focused.

"Hmmm."

And that was all the conversation they needed to get back up, weapons at the ready, and walk towards the disturbance. They were on scouting duty, after all. The stupid idiots of the community could still be here, or they could be dead, or it could just be someone from their group that had gotten ahead of them. The options were endless. The paths ahead of them endless.

They came on a quaint little house, red brick with cream siding, a little wrap around porch, with the distinct sound of ransacking happening inside. Rummaging that stopped and started. No conversation.

_Oh. Good. Real people._ Glen thought to herself, relaxing, before frowning. _Damnit, real people. And not_ _ **her**_ _real people._

Daryl and she shared a look. He made a hand-motion that meant:

_Keep on guard. Shoot first ask questions later._

With a nod, Glen took point. Daryl went around back. Glen was in luck, too, because the front door was open, not wide enough for someone like Daryl to slide through, but just enough for her. Going slowly, listening to drawers opening and closing, doors being shut - Glen realized it was at least two people.

_Shit._

Glen immediately switched to her pistole, taking it out of her holster. She rarely used a gun, for obvious reasons, but knew it tended to dissuade most kinds of people.

"Fuck." She heard. A woman's voice. A ting of an accent she couldn't place.

"Could be worse, ya know." A man's voice. Deep. Tinged with a southern drawl, not nearly as attractive as Daryl's. Then again, not many people were as attractive as the hick. "We at least have some beans."

" _Beans_." The woman said, sounding disgusted. "Awesome. Just what we needed."

" _Hey_ , there **could** be nothing."

Bitterness. "Sure that wouldn't be **better**?"

Glen came around the corner, carefully, to see a rather... strange sight.

Now, Glen had seen some interesting pairs. She and Daryl for one. T-Dawg and Amy, however short that fling had been or even ongoing, if it still was. There were lots of different people in the world. Even less than before the world had fallen apart, sure, but still... beggars couldn't be choosers?

The woman was tall, skinny, clothed in jeans and a loose, ratty hoodie. Long blond hair was pulled back into a greasy, messy pony tail. Yet, she still looked relatively attractive. It should have been illegal to be so attractive with the world falling to shit. Glen thought the same thing towards Andrea, Beth, and Amy. As pale as she was, Glen almost thought she was dead. The man, on the other hand was a different matter entirely.

He was tall, too, but also _wide_. A rarity in this torn world. He wore cargo shorts, some kind of graphic-t and was looking at a can in his hand sadly. He was a bigger man, there was no escaping that, but he also looked like a lost puppy. Nervous. All of that came to Glen second, of course, because she noticed something else about the man first.

He was a redhead, freckled, and had a frown that reminded her of Doug on his face. And wasn't that all she needed?

She was speaking before she could stop herself. Shoot first ask questions later tossed to the wayside.

"You know," They both spun, wide eyed to look at Glen. "You both are loud enough to wake the dead."

There went all Daryl and her own planning. Silent as it had been. She could already see Daryl's expression.

A serious frown. Narrowed eyes. He'd probably spit something ugly, too.

Glen couldn't find it in her to care.

"Who are you?" The woman demanded, chancing a look at the counter with it's block of knives. She didn't have a gun on her.

Small mercies.

The man, bigger as he was than the woman, cowered behind his partner comically for a moment before realizing that he was clearly bigger than everyone in the room. By feet. "Yeah! Who-who're you?"

"Glen." There was a pause, where everyone just watched each other. "You?"

They still seemed shell shocked but the woman cleared her throat. Giving them a pointed look.

"Maeve ." The blond said, taking a step closer to her friend.

"'m Bruce."

_What am I doing?_ Glen thought to herself, as they all stood in stifled, awkward silence. Looking each other over. It was clear from how Maeve glared, how Bruce cowered - they weren't used to meeting people who didn't shoot first. And honestly, Glen would have - had they looked the least bit intimidating. They both looked like half-drowned puppies. Worse, even. It was clear they hadn't changed their clothes in weeks, maybe even months.

"Are you alone?" Maeve asked, eyes straying behind Glen.

"No." Glen said, honesty dragged from her, even if she was she would have lied, eyes moving between the two, watching their every action. "Scouting ahead for my group."

They didn't need to know about Daryl. Or that she was the leader. Or anything.

She'd said too much already.

Maeve and Bruce now looked even more nervous. Though Maeve hid it well behind a mask that consisted of a frown and furrowed brow. It wasn't a revelation, just a sad truth. They had not met many nice people. Glen knew that look because she had seen it on her own groups faces. Mirrors all around.

"You could have shot us." Maeve said, nodding towards Glen's hands.

Glen blinked in surprise, looking down at the gun she had had out.

"But you didn't."

It took a moment of thinking. Glen wasn't the kind of person to just go shooting. Mostly because the but Glen eventually went for gut feeling rather than waxing any kind of poetry. She wasn't Rick. She lowered the gun considerably.

"No reason to waste a bullet." Glen then took a minute to look them both over. "Should I have?" Her grip on her gun tightened.

It was then that Glen saw Daryl come around behind them. If she didn't look at him or acknowledge him, it was like he wasn't even there. And even if this guy reminded her of Doug, she wasn't about to put all her faith in red-hair. Especially not when she had a group to think about.

So she said nothing about Daryl and asked the two in front of her: "So, what are you doing here?"

"Supplies." Bruce said, "The place is fenced in. Thought it couldn't be half as bad in here as it is out there."

Maeve looked heavenward before sighing and pointedly glaring at nothing, which clearly should have been Bruce.

"Hmmm." Glen said with a nod, looking to the empty cabinets, trying to get her thoughts together.

This was something she hadn't expected to encounter.

"Seen any Geeks?" She asked.

Maeve raised a brow, finally leaning against the counter as if at ease with the situation. "Geeks? You mean the Biters?"

Glen rolled her eyes, Daryl even looked fed up with all those names. He also looked impatient. "Biters, Geeks, Walkers, whatever. The dead. Seen any?"

Bruce shook his head, but Maeve just stared.

"So how many people you got in your group?" Maeve finally asked.

Daryl looked ready to pounce.

"I don't count anymore." Glen answered truthfully, scratching her chin - the signal to Daryl to back off, let her handle it all. He heard it loud and clear, because he backed off. Narrowed eyes and frown and all.

"So a lot, huh?" Bruce asked, perking up.

Maeve smacked him over the head. "No, _doofus_ ," She took a chance to glance at Glen, "She's saying a lot of them keep _dying_."She paused, looking at Glen. "Right?"

"We've lost about half, gained another bunch." Glen shrugged. "We have lows and highs. People come. People go."

"Looking for two more?" Bruce asked, before Maeve could get her mouth open.

And Glen had to stop herself from responding immediately with an affirmative. She had to fight it because this wasn't Doug. He wasn't even close in size, or personality, or anything. But that damn soft spot in her chest told her that he was still similar. Similar enough to want to save the guy.

And his friend.

"What the fuck, why not?" Glen said, throwing arm that wasn't holding the gun upwards, loud enough for Daryl to hear.

"Follow me."

* * *

Daryl cursed internally as he listened to Glen talk to the two survivors.

_What was she doing?_

Glen had done many, many things he had disagreed with. Becoming the group's leader. Staying on the farm for longer than was strictly necessary. But he had stayed because it was the best thing to do. He wasn't stupid. His survival was the only thing he cared about.

Well, one of the only things he cared about.

Daryl, crossbow at the ready, came up behind the two strangers, ready to do what needed to be done.

Glen made no acknowledgement that she saw him, but he knew she had. The single scratch of her chin, one long finger, was all Daryl needed to know that she was making a stupid decision. And damnit, he was going to have to have her back again.

It was then he focused on the words. He had missed their names but at the very least he could hear the conversation.

"Seen any Geeks?"

"... Geeks? You mean the biters?"

_Did everyone they met have a different name for the dead?_ Daryl couldn't help but wonder. They were in the same region, should that mean their language interact enough that they would call the walkers what they were? Walkers.

"Biters, Geeks, Walkers, whatever. The dead. Seen any?" Glen was at least being straight to the point.

That was at least going to plan. Even if nothing else was.

"So how many people you got in your group?" The blond asked, voice shaking and Daryl could tell she was deeply uncomfortable.

A pause. Glen's face was harder then. Hard like when they'd had to kill the walkers in the barn. "I don't count anymore."

"So a lot, huh?" The bigger guys asked.

The blond smacked him over the head. "No, _doofus_ ,"

She took a chance to glance at Glen, "She's saying a lot of them keep _dying_."

Glen took that moment to pretend to look over their shoulders, at Daryl. A brief moment because the blond caught her eye.

"Right?"

"We've lost about half, gained another bunch." Glen shrugged. "We have lows and highs."

"Looking for two more?" The big guy asked, before blondie could get her mouth open.

"What the fuck, why not?" Glen said, loud enough for Daryl to hear.

"Follow me."

Daryl decided keeping back would be for the best. If not, he was liable to strangle Glen for her rushed actions.

* * *

"... So. What'd you do before this all happened?" Bruce asked, curiously as they walked.

The guy had brightened up considerably since Glen had put the gun down to her side, ready but not to kill either of the two beside her. Like a light switch had been thrown. He was animated, like the children, and easy and kind of clumsy.

"College student. Delivery driver." Glen said distractedly.

"Oh, cool." He said, trying to be smooth he pocketed his hands and tried to saunter forward. It was comical only because it looked like his first attempt ever. "I'm a Software Engineer."

Glen just raised a brow, smiling at him and flicking her eyes to a stone cold Maeve . "Don't have a lot of use for computers anymore."

That deflated him and Maeve 's lips even quirked upwards.

Bruce rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah, not so much."

It was then silent. Silent enough that if Maeve observed she could hear Daryl trailing. Glen was quick to start up more conversation. "So what'd you do Maeve ?"

The blond carefully regarded Glen.

"A little bit of everything. I was a temp at Bruce's office. Answering phones and stuff."

"Wow, so then you got the better end of the world ending, huh?" Glen said, looking forward and slowing slightly. They were about four houses away from the house her group was in. They had hopefully heard them coming and would be on alert.

If not, Glen was going to have _words_.

Maeve snorted. "Speak for yourself."

Frowning, Glen turned to see Maeve looking over into a bush.

"I do." Glen said with a chuckle. _I also speak for everyone else, too,_ Glen wanted to add, but it wouldn't do to give them such an advantage. Even if Daryl was behind her, ready to spring her should any danger arise from these two.

"So where's your group?" Bruce asked, peering curiously around. Not at all observant since he all but watched a flock of birds twitch and twitter for a second, ignoring the leaves rustling around him.

_Was he simple?_ Glen asked herself but answered aloud, jerking her chin. "Few houses away."

"Sweet." The redhead said, turning to her with a relieved smile.

_Hmm, maybe they would work out._ Glen has only a moment to really think that when she heard someone call her name with a shrillness that spelled almost certain death. It broke the silence almost as easily as a gunshot.

"GLEN!"

Jerking swiftly to look in the direction of where the house was, Glen was shocked to see Beth holding off a Walker with a walking stick. She was doing valiantly, but waning. _How long had she been like this?_ Glen thought, baffled as she took off at a run, shoving her gun in the back of her pants and pulling out her knife.

"HELP!" The younger woman sobbed, as she lost her footing.

Glen was there in a second, just as the Walker and Beth tumbled. Knife in the back of skull. Bodies flopping.

"Beth what the hell?" Glen demanded as she shoved the dead body over and grabbed Beth's shaking wrist. "What were you thinking? Why'd you leave the house?"

"Sorry, sorry," Beth gasped and blabbered as fast as she could, as she was jerked upright into Glen's waiting arms. "Shane sent me and Andrea out to look at the blue house, right there," Beth pointed. It was a nice sized house. "We split to cover distance and I lost track of her and then I left the house and - and that's when _he_ came out of nowhere."

Beth shook like a leaf.

"Alright, alright I get it." Glen said, smoothing down Beth's hair. Feeling incredibly pissed at the man for sending Andrea and Beth of all people out. _Did he have a death wish?_ Cause if either of the woman had died because of him, Glen would have ripped him a new one. Well, a bigger new one than she was already planning on tearing him.

"Who-who're they?" Beth asked, shakily, in an almost staged whisper.

"Just a couple people I found," Glen said dismissively, as she asked. "Can you walk?"

Beth nodded and Glen turned to call into the house - "Hey, Andrea! Get out here!"

They'd already made enough noise to call forth whatever Walker's were left in this place. Might as well use it to their advantage. Maeve flinched and Bruce looked curious. It only took a second, as if Andrea had already been on her way out, but she burst through the doors. Taking in the scene quickly, eyes widening dramatically, Andrea stumbled over to them. "What happened?"

"Let's not discuss this here." Glen said just as Beth opened her mouth, and shut it just as quickly. "Come on, lets get you inside."

The young girl nodded, still pale.

Andrea opened her mouth to speak again but Glen just glared, shushing her.

"Well." Bruce said, cheerfully. "Never a dull moment in the apocalypse. Eh?"

_Lord give me strength,_ is all Glen can think as Beth and Andrea shoot her confused, weary, and plain befuddled glances. Maeve watching it all go down shrewdly.

* * *

Daryl laughed inwardly as he watched the scene from the slats of a wrap-around porch. Glen could never catch a break. Though, she never really tried to. She'd invited people back to the group. Saved Beth. And this was just the beginning of another day with the woman.

He sighed as he got up, keeping his distance from them, but following.

Far enough away he couldn't hear them (and they couldn't hear him) Daryl watched as Glen stomped ahead of the group, head high and no doubt fire in her eyes. Whoever had sent Beth and Andrea out were about to get a stern talking to. Aka, an ass ripping. Daryl picked up his pace slightly, looking forward to watching it go down.

After all, it wasn't often Glen was pissed. Truly pissed anyway.

And she **was** a sight to behold when she was.

They entered the house only a minute before him, and he was greeted to the sound of a raised voice as he stepped on the porch.

" - give you the idea that I wanted people scouting besides Daryl and I?"

"Now, Glen - "

_Oh boy._

"Oh, don't even try that, Shane!" Glen snarled. "I get that we're all adults here and we can all make our own decisions, but what the fuck were you thinking?"

"I was thinking we needed to check the place out."

"In his defense - "

" _Shut up_ , cowboy,"

Daryl entered then to see Shane, Rick, Glen, and the new people standing in the foyer. Maeve and Bruce were watching, wide eyed as Glen, this small little asian girl, tore into two men as easily as chewing gum. As if he wasn't any wiser to the situation, he raised an eyebrow.

"Don't you start," Glen said with narrowed eyes, pointing, but her lips twitched. Her arms relaxed against each other. She wasn't as stiff.

"Wasn't gonna say nothing." Daryl claimed, walking past her into the kitchen where Carol was.

"I thought you and Glen were out together?"

"We were." Daryl said. "Those people showed up. Glen _invited_ them over."

The woman raised a brow, mimicking Daryl's face moments before.

Then they both broke into chuckles as Glen's voice rose again, berating the two ex-law-enforcers.

* * *

Maeve and Bruce sat on the smaller couch while Rick, Glen, and Shane took the bigger couch. Daryl hovered in the background, not exactly there but not out of the room either. Everyone else was out doing something or eavesdropping from the kitchen

"We need a system for who to let into our group," Shane finally said after a long awkward silence.

Maeve nodded at that, simply accepting it. "Smart."

Bruce didn't look happy though. He was frowning all pouty, like a child who'd had his toys taken away.

"What do you suggest?" Glen asked, leaning back against the couch. She was in the middle.

For a moment she wondered if the newcomers understood that she was the 'leader'. Maeve might have caught on, but Bruce was pretty easily distracted.

It was a pretty unlikely set up.

Two ex-police officers and she was the leader? Even **she** knew they had the element of surprise.

"Preliminary questions," Rick said, tossing the term out like they were about to sign a contract. When Glen turned to him, eyebrow raised, waiting for an explanation, he gave one. "We decide on three questions to ask, and based on their answers - or lack of answers - we let them in."

Shane was quick to put forth his suggestion for a question by posing it to the newcomers.

"How many Walker's have you killed?"

Maeve answered first. "I don't keep track. I did, at first, but after a while it just stops being important... I think I stopped counting at fifteen though."

"Just two," Bruce admitted, voice small.

Glen tried to glean some kind of information from that, and realized she had. Maeve was a no-nonsense girl. Took after her own heart, in the way she was brutal. She was going to survive, even if the rest of the world had to burn. Bruce on the other hand was an idealist. A person who hoped this was all a bad dream and that they could get out of bloodshed by sticking with someone who was ruthless and heartless.

Glen blinked as she realized that had fit her and Doug pretty well, too. Shaking her head she was quick to offer up a question that had always niggled at the back of her mind.

"How many people have you killed?"

Both of them stiffened at that.

Maeve looked away. "None... though not for lack of trying."

It was bruce who answered yes, with pale face and shaky hands.

"Two people," He said, looking miserable and like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. He gulped and looked away too. Away from where Maeve was looking.

It was Rick who asked the third question and Glen didn't even realize how they'd set it up so perfectly that way.

"Why?"

"I... They were going to kill me. I had to," Bruce said, and his eyes are back on them. On Glen's. There is a pleading there, for understanding, for words to comfort... for condemnation. Glen gave nothing, but she wanted to.

Oh. Did she want to.

"As I said, not for lack of trying. There were a few people. Always them coming after me first." Maeve frowned severely, which was impressive considering she had yet to smile. "The first few attacked first, but I always got the last word. I may not have killed anyone directly, but I've left people to be bit."

And like that, the group had their questioning methodology.

It was decided that they would let these two in.

Bruce and Maeve accepted. Exuberantly and hesitantly, respective.

Glen took a long walk after that. Daryl followed at a distance for a while, but when all she did was go and sit on a randomly chosen porch, he decided she needed some alone time. He didn't know what for.

He didn't need to.

* * *

The two newcomers were treated to the group's hospitality; that's to say they were wearily watched for any funny business, whispered about, and generally felt as welcome as a Walker. Maeve seemed to find the behavior comforting, or at the very least exactly what she expecting. Bruce just seemed to think everyone was personally after him. Which was fine, but a little annoying to Glen - because that's how Doug was...

Had been.

The guy had some of the same mannerisms, too, which had forced Glen not once, not twice, but **four times** to leave the room because she was having flashbacks. He waved his arm and suddenly she was back in that stupid vehicle, his warmth the only thing in the whole world. He'd smile at her all goofy from under his shaggy hair, and her heart would stop - remembering when Doug tried his awkward 'seduction' of her, being the only woman around for him to even try anything on. The only one who wasn't confused by the behavior was Daryl. And the only one who didn't stare at her awkwardly when she got back from her small circuit of the house, was Daryl.

Well, and Carol, but she didn't count because she would pass little glances, like a concerned and knowing mother.

It only took four hours until someone confronted her, and that someone, of course, was Amy.

"So." She said, casually, as she leaned against the kitchen wall. She'd cornered Glen as the woman had gone to take another breather from everyone. An image of Doug catching a fish and flashing her such a pleased smile, it _physically_ hurt her heart. "Bruce."

"And Maeve ." Glen added, unhelpfully as she opened cabinets mechanically. They'd already stripped anything useful, but it was the action that was comforting. Normal. Easy.

"And Maeve ." Amy conceded. "But Bruceee."

Glen pressed her forehead against the cabinet door. "You're like a dog with a chew toy or something."

"Yup." Amy popped.

"It's nothing."

"I don't believe you."

"Well, you should."

"Well, I don't."

Glen glared at the veins in the wood.

"Just tell me, is it because of Bruce or what he is?"

"What is he?" Glen snorted with an eyeroll.

"I don't know... hope?" Amy said. Glen blinked.

"Hope?"

Amy chuckled, hearing the note of incredulous horror in Glen's voice, and held up her hands. "So it's not hope... It's just him."

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

Amy beamed. "Nope."

"Fine." Glen said, snarling as she turned and waltzed out of the room, Amy following.

And it went that way through everywhere Glen went, until finally, on the second floor, Glen entered the master bedroom, Amy followed. And Glen was done with it.

"Alright, fine, okay, I'll tell you - dammit. Just stop following me!"

Amy flounced to the bed and flopped. "Finally!"

Glen twitched.

"Before the Dixons and I... **found** each other," Glen felt a twitch to her mouth. Found was one way of putting it.

"Before those two, I was traveling with this kid."

Amy didn't interrupt as Glen took a breath.

"His name was Doug. He was... he was an idiot." Glen reminisce fondly, sadly, Amy looked even more interested. "He wasn't much older than you, lost his mom and dad a few hours before I had found him. He was the one who... took care of them. He was a mess. A kid. An idiot. But... We worked. He listened to me, he was the first person to not take a shot at me, and we... we survived." She shook her head remembering his stupid face.

"One day, we went into a town and made some stupid decisions... He got bit."

Glen could almost feel the panic, the hopelessness of the situation as if it were happening all over again.

"Daryl helped me put him down..."

She felt her throat closing up. Remembering. Seeing images of him behind her closed eyelids. How he had smiled at her, sadly. How he had told her it was fine, he was going to die and she shouldn't sweat it. Glen refused to cry, so she sucked it up, turned away from Amy and stared at her gaunt reflection in the mirror.

"End of story."

"That was a lot less happy than I thought it would be." Amy said quietly behind her.

"What were you expecting?" Glen asked, with a genuine chuckle. Amy made a sour face.

"I don't know... an ex-boyfriend or something? A playmate from grade school?" Amy said sitting up and becoming solemn. "Not... not that."

"He was all I had left to care about for a while there." Glen admitted. "When he died... whatever was left of me from before died with him. I wasn't going to be that weak person anymore. I wasn't going to form attachments. I wasn't going to care. I wasn't - "

Glen realized she'd blabbered and said too much until she cut herself off.

Shit.

Amy was looking away. Tears in the corner of her eyes.

"Thanks." The younger woman said.

"Thanks?" Glen demanded, angry now. "What for?"

"For reminding me that you **do** care. And that - ugh, God - "

"Amy?" Glen questioned, watching as Amy covered her mouth with her hand. It wasn't seconds later that her eyes grew large and she lurched from the bed and reached for the waste basket next to the headboard and threw up. Violently.

"AMY!"

_What on earth?_ Glen thought as she could only watch in horrified silence as the girl who was slowly starting to become something of a friend and confidant, was sick. Very, very violently.

* * *

"Just a stomach bug." Herschel said. "Nothing to worry about."

"Oh, good." Amy said, with a smile as she leaned against the couch. "See? I'm fine."

Glen, Andrea, Shane, and Rick were unconvinced.

"She just started throwing up!" Andrea said, while Rick added. "Are you sure it's nothing contagious?"

Herschel looked about as fed up with their question as always. "No. She's not showing any other symptoms except nausea and feeling generally like crap. It will pass. And if it doesn't we can worry then."

"Right here." Amy mumbled.

"Oh, honey," Andrea said, smiling, as she settled down right next to her. "You're going to be just fine."

"I know." Amy agreed with a smile. "It's just the stomach flu or something. Just like the doctor said."

Glen watched from a distance, hoping it really was just the flu. Not something worse.

Not something incurable.

Not something like pregnancy.

Another week came and went and Amy was the one who figured it out. Naturally. It came through a conversation as it always does, between girls over feminine needs.

"Do we need anymore pads and tampons?" Andrea asked her sister as she went down their own personal supplies list. She was tossing some bottles of water around as she counted things. She was tallying up her personal hygiene stash. Nothing had changed in the past few months -

Amy froze after a second.

"Andrea."

"You think we should look for ziplock bags?"

"Andrea."

"No. I really think they'd be useful, you know - "

"ANDREA."

Andrea startled. "What?"

She was holding up a box of tampons.

"We're late."

Her older sister didn't get it. "Late? No we're not. We're - " Andrea started counting in her head. And then recounting. The pen in her hand fell.

"It could just be stress." Amy said to herself, fingers tightening onto the box.

"Yeah, stress." Andrea said, but she knew. She'd counted fifty five days. That was a long time. In fact, their next period should be coming up in the next week or two.

"We both slept with - "

Andrea cut Amy off.

" **Don't**."

She glared at her sister. But there was something in her eyes. Worry. Fear. terror

"We can't be pregnant..." Andrea whispered to herself, staring at the pads on the bed. "Not at the same time... not **now**."

Amy wisely kept her mouth shut. Long enough anyway, because then she was running to the bucket she kept close, her nose not liking the smell of the granola. Her stomach protesting the only way it knows how.


	24. Come What May

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have had these three chapters sitting in my google docs for months. They are as finished as they are going to get (mostly because I have a lost a LOT of inspiration for this fic, but damnit I'mma finish it if it kills me).
> 
> So, get ready for the last three chapters! :) 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy, this has been a blast to write.

When the world had gone to shit, it had been winter. Or maybe fall. In Georgia it was kind of hard to tell all the time and heaven knows Glen didn't know a thing about why the seasons were the way they were. She had dropped out of college for a reason. Glen didn’t like actually keeping track, either. She wasn’t good at it back when she had a digital calendar to help her track things via phone - why would she get better when she had to figure it all out based on trees, and when leaves are falling, and when the weather picks back up?

She wasn’t the only one thinking that, but she was the only one keeping her mouth shut about it. Honestly, if she had to hear Maggie tell her about ‘feeling’ a storm coming one more time, she was going to kick someones ass.

At the very least, Carol had been keeping track. Now it was spring, she claimed, waltzing quietly into summer. Carol also _claimed_ she had been keeping track of the dates, and when she found a calendar was quick to count it out, coming up with February twentieth or twenty-first. With the change of too-cool weather turning into brighter days, the farmers had all gotten together to scrunge through the houses with gardens in the back for seed. What they’d managed to find hadn’t been a lot, but with seeds you didn’t need much.

So they started crops. Nothing would be ready for a while. Not for a long while yet, anyway.

The farmers stuck to what they knew. Tending to their gardens. They used nearly the entire backyard, the front, and the neighboring yards. Lettuce, carrots, corn. Tomatoes, squash, peppers. Anything they could find. Anything they could sow. It was slim pickings, until they went into town and found a store that sold seeds. Nearly fully stocked.

Maggie had cried on the spot.

They used the entire backyard of the house they had all claimed.

About a month in the gated community and still none of them had moved to another house. None of them felt safe enough to do so. They didn’t have phones anymore, or radios. It was safer for everyone involved if they were within shouting distance unless they went on a mission or a scouting. There was a standing order to find some way to communicate, but that was easier said than done with a handful of people with no survival training just doing their damn best.

But their damned best was all Glen asked of them. And so far, while it wasn’t always enough, it was passable.

* * *

In that month, not a lot had changed. Amy and Andrea had elected to keep their pregnancies a secret. After they realized they had missed their periods, Andrea had smuggled in pee-sticks. They weren’t showing, yet, but each of them could feel the baby under their hands. Amy tried to convince Andrea to tell someone, anyone, but she didn’t want to.

“What would it help with?” Andrea demanded in a hiss one night.

“What _wouldn’t_ it help with?” Amy hissed right back. “We could stop sneaking prenatals, we could talk with someone about this, we could get help!”

Amy hadn’t thought, for one second, to get rid of the baby. Andrea had accepted that, while hiding her own misgivings. But at least... this way, the resources would be better focused on two babies than one baby now, another a year down the road... right?

“No,” Andrea said. “Nobody needs to know. Not yet.”

Amy huffed.

“When?”

“When we can’t hide it anymore.” Andrea said, turning away.

Amy didn’t understand where this all was coming from. Andrea was being ridiculous. These people were their family, and sure, pregnancies, especially two of them, were not the best thing - Amy could kind of see Andrea’s point - but it was baseless.

... wasn’t it?

* * *

Rick and Shane had both... elected to stop making stupid ass decisions that would get them chewed out by Glen. Which wasn’t easy. They were both alpha male, ready to protect their own, and not too adept with idle hands. Rick kept himself busy with Carl while Shane did whatever he could to help out around the fenced-in-area. Lots of scrounging for bits and pieces, building things from manuals. He worked on cars, too, when he thought about it. Glen tried to keep him busy by giving him things to try and figure out, to tinker with, things that would help with survival.

But still... they were just waiting for the opportunity to make some stupid decision. Glen knew they were.

And there was only so much she could be ready for.

That was until Shane sat next to her and he gave her A Look.

“I think it’s time we seriously talk about defending this place,” He said, not meeting her eye, staring out at the light-orange house across from them.

Glen snorted. _When didn’t they talk about defending this place?_ It was the second most talked about topic. Right up there with food. It was a favored topic. Even so, there was a reason for it. And Glen, even though she hated being stationary, and surrounded by these walls of fake-safety - was quick to continue any conversation that actually used her brains.

“Go on,” She told Shane.

He did not disappoint.

“The fence doesn’t have any weak spots, we’ve checked like... every week, but it wasn’t exactly built to withstand anything other than weather,” He fiddled with his shirt sleeve. “And, we’re near the entrance, this house is, which you know I disagree with.”

Glen nodded, she knew. He mentioned it every other day.

“And we don’t have nearly enough people to defend if a bigger group came through. We’d be wiped out...”

“What are you suggesting?”

Shane sighed through his nose.

“We should be beefing up our walls. Another foot taller, maybe barbed wire. Cement, another inch or two inside the fence. I know we can find cement - we found seeds after all - it would take some planning, but we could do it.”

It was all defensive, but Glen knew that was most important with a prize such as this place. If they couldn’t defend it, it would be taken. It was the way of the world. Eat or be eaten. Live or die. Fight or flight. And they had stopped running a long time ago.

Glen narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips.

It was time to get serious.

“Alright,” Glen said, glad the boys finally had a project. “You and Rick are in charge of that. Do what you think you gotta.”

* * *

T-Dawg was... well, Glen didn’t care enough to give a status report on the man. He helped. He was useful. But Glen didn’t care enough about the man to go any farther than that. Neither did the man actively try and get in her way enough that they were forced to... converse. The most they spoke was when they volunteered each other for jobs.

It was a simple system. It required no love or even like. It was work. They could work.

* * *

Daryl and Glen were... as solid as they ever were. As solid as they were not with T-Dawg.

* * *

With a month of relative calm under their belts, Glen begun to truly prepare for the worst. She had everyone keep a small variety of seeds in their individual packs. Daryl had people keep a lot of things in their individual packs that nobody would have thought to otherwise. Most everyone had a bracelet or two of coiled rope, three knives, flint, a small bundle of sticks, and a few other nicknacks. Everyone carried food for three days, a change of clothing, a jacket, and an extra pair of boots. They’d gotten everyone’s sizes and raided a nearby shopping center.

All in all, everyone was becoming the tight knit group Glen knew was inside them all. You could only live within such tight quarters without something giving... Chores were shared. Nearly everyone had something to do daily, except the children, but even then they were given jobs to distract and teach them. Carol taking on role of mother for Carl even when Rick was around to help.

Every few days, Glen had them run through a drill or two, for preparedness. What they would grab on the way out, who their partner was, and where to meet inside the compound.

Rick was with Carol and the children, if they were split up, each was in charge of a child. Amy and Andrea. T-Dawg and Beth. Maggie and Herschel. Glen and Daryl. Maeve and Bruce. Which left Shane to be the tag-on, what they had dubbed that position. He was to make sure everyone had gotten out of the house at the very least. He brought up the rear. And each team had a ‘leader’, so to speak, that knew where one of the other leaders were. The network was small, but it was important.

It was weird to get used to, a bit, but they all knew where their partner was at all times. If Glen came and asked any of them, they knew. In itself, it was impressive. It created an awareness of everyone. It created... a team.

Nothing militaristic, but it was a start. It was a start to something resembling civilization.

Which Glen still thought was stupid. But hey, she wasn’t in charge of stupid, just in making sure everyone understood the consequences and reacted accordingly. Since she had already proven herself as a competent leader, people listened to her without question. And so she curbed more stupid than she thought possible.

* * *

Another few weeks and they’d been settled for nearly a month and a half.

Their supplies waning. The shelves becoming bare quicker and quicker. Even with rationing and scouting. They had a few weeks before they got desperate, but it wasn’t a place Glen wanted to be. Hunger made people act stupid. Glen was hating stupid more and more, even though she knew even the smartest among them (namely her and Daryl) were not immune from stupid decisions.

Thankfully, they hit the jackpot when they started scouting basements. They had left basements alone until they were sure they had enough flashlights and weapons to take on a small horde. Luckily, they only ran into one basement full of twenty Walkers. T-Dawg and Maeve had been the ones to find it. Glen still remembered _that_ fondly. They’d left it alone, because none of them were itching for a fight, but Glen had made a note to come back and slowly pick away at them.

It only took them a week to find enough food to last another month, at the very least. They also found canning supplies, which had made Maggie nearly cry with relief. She did that a lot, actually. Hershel's face even softened, and Glen swore he had smiled at his girls. He still didn’t speak to her, which was fine, he was an asshole and she’d still give as good as she got - but it was a start.

* * *

It had been quiet for a month, which is, of course, when things usually went to shit.

This time was no different.

Only Glen was surprised, _honestly_ surprised, that when it all went to shit: they held their own. Competently, too. Like... so amazingly competently.

It wasn’t like any other attack, either.

First off, it was people, not walkers; real, heart-beating people, with brains and thoughts and plans and weapons training and smarts. Second, they were the mangy group of people from the bar, and they had lost many of their own people to the hoard that had swept over the Green farm. But third and most important: her group was ready.

In total, it had been an attack party of twelve people.

Out of those twelve people, only four of them knew how to fight another human.

Stupidly, they had put those four people in different groups, so to protect everyone, rather than just using those four to attack them. All in all, the fight went a little like this:

It didn’t.

* * *

“Glen you ain’t gonna believe this.” T-Dawg said.

“What?” Glen demanded right back, back to back with him as she stared at the night sky.

“We got... people.”

Glen was up then. It had been a nice, silent warm night. Of course, the one night she was on guard duty with T-Dawg of all people is the time when shit decided to come knocking. She turned in the direction that T-Dawg was pointed, where he was staring.

“Where?”

T-Dawg was silent, watching the darkness. Glen couldn’t see anything or anybody, so she waited. Patience wasn’t her strong point though, so she drummed her fingers against her leg.

“They’re over there, to the west wall. They just hopped the fence and - ohmygod,”

Glen squinted, trying to see what he did. “What? T-Dawg, what the hell is going on?”

“... They’re holed up in the house with the Walker Basement,” T-Dawg said, slow and quiet in Glen’s ear. But there was a measure of humor in his voice. Like he was holding back incredulous laughter.

Glen’s eyes darted to the house in question to see the door closing. “You’re fucking pulling my leg,”

“I ain’t.” There was humor in his voice. “Swear on my momma’s grave, look - “

He pointed. In the dark it was hard to see, but Glen watched as a few blobs, the people, entered into the one building in the entire place with Walkers. The one building that the group of them had decided unanimously to leave alone.

“... I’m gonna go wake up Rick and Shane and Daryl,” T-Dawg flashed her pearly whites as she turned away. She also hid a grin as she shimmied down the roof to the bedroom she shared with Daryl. She made sure to wake him slowly, not that he did anything slow, of course, but she laid a hand on his arm and waited for him to come to. Like a jack-knife, he was at her throat, but quickly de-fanged himself as she waited.

“People. They’re in the Walker House.”

He snorted, awake and eyes glittering.

“Come on, let’s get Shane and Rick, I wanna make sure they don’t let the pack out into the streets.”

Daryl and Glen found Rick and Shane asleep on one bed, while Carl was asleep in the other one. Both men were curled around each other, a measure of space between their bodies that Glen imagined was because they were stupid with their feelings, even subconsciously.

She shook both of them, Daryl strapping his knives on as she did. Rick woke a little like Daryl, quick, eyes open, but then just stared at her. As soon as he realized who she was, the recognition lighting behind his eyes, he rolled into Shane and woke up him, shushing him as he groaned out a ‘whut?’.

In the hallway, after they both pulled on pants, she explained the situation. Then she told them how they were going to play it. After that, it was easy.

Like a well oiled machine they split up. Daryl and Glen took lead, exiting the house as Shane woke up Carol and Rick woke up the Greene’s and Maeve and Bruce. If it came to a fight, everyone needed to be ready and alert. The children could be kept sleeping, until the very last moment, if need be.

It was the plan they had come up with nearly two weeks ago, and everyone play’d their parts like they were born to it.

Still, for all their planning, it was a right shame that it was so easy. And the Walkers had made it a cake-walk.

Not to say that Glen felt pity for their attackers; they had come in the dead of night to attack them, stealthy and sneaky, but it was a right shame that the idiots had picked the wrong house, the wrong neighborhood, and just, generally, the wrong people. The two of them, Daryl and Glen, made their way to the house by the back-way, behind fences and in through backyards. It was ridiculous the ease with which they worked right up until the first man took a strike at Glen out of the darkness.

She was quick, but even she could be caught off guard. Luckily, the darkness was working against both of them, and as the man bowled into her, Glen managed to twist him around so she ended up on-top of him. Knife unsheathed in a moment as the man snarled and grunted. Both of them wrestling with their arms, both holding each other’s wrists with the knives in them, and both of them trying to gain the upper hand.

 _Fuck_. Glen thought as he tried to head-butt her and she nearly didn’t pull back fast enough.

She gave him an elbow to the jaw for that.

Faintly, behind her, Glen heard Daryl taking someone on, but she was focused on her person. He took an opportunity to free his wrist and jab the knife towards her stomach but Glen blocked it and, with the opening it provided, stabbed him in the gut with her own knife.

He let out a pained grunt, jolting and stiffening.

Glen crowed to herself, _Take that!_

It was quick. It was messy. The stiffening as he coughed blood into her face made Glen feel alive as he convulsed under her knife. Writhed. Glen was at least merciful, quick to pull her knife out and stab upwards through his chin, up his nasal passage, and into his brain.

He stopped moving after that.

Glen didn’t take a moment to feel the rush, to appreciate her kill, she just rose to go and help Daryl.

Only, her partner-in-crime didn’t need her. He had two men on the ground and had a woman in a choke hold as she tried to stab him with the hand, attached to the wrist that Daryl was holding. It was clear he was trying to incapacity her, not kill her.

 _It was taking too long,_ Glen though, dispassionately. The blood-lust and heat of battle not leaving her as she walked over the two bodies near her. Without a word of warning to Daryl, she stabbed the woman under the chin, a hairs-breath from Daryl’s arm in the choke hold.

She went limp as Daryl dropped her.

He narrowed his eyes at her in the dark.

“They need to die,” Glen told Daryl.

With a tight lipped look, Daryl nodded.

This wasn’t the first time she had said those words. In every meeting, in every ‘war council’, she made sure to stress that in certain situations people had to die. They could not be allowed to live. If they attacked without provocation, especially in the dead of night, they deserved death. It was them against the rest of the world.

They had to survive.

And if that meant that Glen checked pulses, made sure the other two Daryl had downed were dead - than she did.

That was the first pack of four of them that Daryl and Glen found. They found another shortly after, with... similar results. Only Daryl was much more on board with killing them quickly, swiftly. A nicer death than they could have expected if the roles were reversed.

Then Shane and Rick met up with them. The other’s staying behind and protecting the homestead.

According to plan.

“You kill those bastards?” Shane asked, as they met behind the Walker House, hiding in the bushes. “Or was that all Daryl?”

“Ain’t just a pretty face,” Glen smiled at him, still high on blood and adrenaline. Though the high was waning and now came the exhaustion, the watchfulness, the contemplation. Not that Glen regretted, there were very few things Glen regretted; tonight, especially, was not one of them.

Rick looked unsteady at that admission, especially as Shane gave a low, long whistled to both of them.

“Nicely done.”

“Thanks,”

“Shhh,” Daryl snapped. They all silenced the talking and listened to the croaking and creaking of the old house as the group that had entered searched the place.

Glen had to wonder if the people had been watching them, getting to know the lay of the land, and had decided on a house far away, that they didn’t enter, as the house they were going to set up surveillance or an attack post. She didn’t know. Hell, she only knew some military terms because Shane and Daryl taught her.

War was something she was still learning.

And, technically speaking, this was her first real battle.

“They’re up top,” Rick whispered, watching the curtains flutter up in one of the far bedrooms.

Glen thought up a plan at that, and gave them the signal for wait as she darted forward. She heard aborted sighs, like the men had wanted to shout, but just caught themselves. Glen ignored it as she quickly, silently, as Daryl had taught her, entered the house and headed for the basement door.

They had closed it and locked it, once they realized the Walker’s in the basement, but Glen had the key with her. And she used it. First she opened the door, then she rapped on the first step, getting the attention of the dead-people, before booking it back outside. Door wide open.

It took less than a minute and she was back with her boys.

Shane, even in the dark, looked impressed and gave her a thumbs up. Rick looked sick. Daryl, watchful. No, worse, he hadn’t even really looked at her, just watched her back. He always had her back, though. She wondered, faintly, if she had pushed him too far, darting out like that.

It wasn’t like they’d never discussed this plan.

 _Spoil-sports,_ Glen snorted to herself, before waiting like the others.

There was more creaking in the house now, the Walkers from the basement coming up to the first floor.

“Rick, go close the front door. Shane, go with him, watch for other people who might rescue them.”

She was obeyed immediately.

Then it was just she and Daryl to watch the show.

Not that it was that great a show. There were no lights. They had to listen carefully for all sounds. Then, suddenly, the Walkers clearly surprised the group inside because she heard an abrupt shriek, than heard it end, and then shouts.

“What the fuck!”

“Holy shit!”

“BITERS!”

“I’m - “

“THEY GOT KYLE. FUCK. BACK UPSTAIRS!”

“Move! Move!”

It sounded like they were shouting, but that was only because before the night had been so silent.

So one down, at least. Maybe even two.

She heard more ‘fucks’ afterwards, as well as ‘shit’, and ‘dammit’, as the group they’d released the Basement Walkers on tried to regroup upstairs. Another one revealed a bite. Economically, his buddy stabbed him without a word edgewise. Glen only knew because afterward someone said, “What the fuck Tory?”

Daryl and Glen both didn’t see the group inside the house. They all got wiped out by the Walkers within ten minutes. Waiting in the silence for a few more minutes, to make sure, Daryl and Glen tried to listen for survivors.

They re-grouped with Rick and Shane and from there, waited to see if anyone else wanted to try their luck.

This time, when they found the final group, it was four against four.

Entirely fair, except for the fact that the other group was operating under the assumption that they had backup coming. Which Glen was quick to taunt them with. Maybe not the smartest option, but man did it feel good when the lady she was squared up with tensed up, eyes wide, and a snarl of denial on her lips.

The lady, either Nikki or Nikolia, died much like the other’s she killed had. Stabbed through the stomach, then up through the brain. Dead once, then dead twice.

There was barely any talking. No exchange of information. Just the fight. Just the battle. Just the war.

Glen didn’t know why tonight, didn’t get any answers; she just killed.

It wasn’t until after, all of them covered in some measure of blood, guts, and bodily fluids that Glen realized she’d killed people. A lot of people. Looking down at her blood covered hands, she was back in the clearing with the group the first time they’d battled and won against Walkers. Then, she’d taken it hard.

Now, she was taking it with a measured breath.

What did it mean that she smeared the blood across her forehead as she turned to check on her team?

What did it mean that she just smiled, thankful that everyone had made it out of their first human-attack alive?

“I’ll count that as a success,” Shane told her, with a bright grin and wild eyes. If Glen had any reservations on Shane being a killer - they were gone. This is what the man was born to do. Kill. Indiscriminately, too. Yet, he wouldn’t. He would focus all that killing power against people who wanted to hurt them. Kill to protect all he cared about. Rick. Carl. Glen.

“Me, too,” Daryl said, sitting on a stump.

Even Rick, seeing her, seeing something in her face, gently told her, “You did good. Your plan worked.”

Shane and Rick and Daryl all watched her as she cleaned her hands int the dirt. She could feel their eyes on her, watching, waiting. For what, she wasn’t sure. In fact, she hadn’t a clue. They had all done well, and she told them so, but they still waited, watching her like the other shoe was just waiting to drop.

It wasn’t until they started walking back, after making sure the Walker House was closed up tight, that Glen realized they thought she was having another breakdown.

_What must she look like?_

Glen realized it didn’t matter.

Her group was alive. She had done good. The rest could wait.


	25. Instrumental Destruction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene... this scene that is coming up has been written for literally a YEAR. Just. Enjoy!   
> Newest warning: Major character death!

After that, things... well, Glen was hesitant to call anything normal, but it was certainly not as insane as it had been. With walls, people relaxed, stupidly, but with good reason. This was the safest place they’d been in months, after all. A few of the houses had had hidden Walkers; people who had failed at committing suicide, locked doors and starvation winning in the end, but it was still a sight better than anywhere else.

Around this time was when Andrea and Amy had finally seen fit to come clean about their seclusion. To Glen at least.

“I’m sorry... could you repeat what you just said,” Glen asked, and she wasn’t proud to admit she was shocked silly.

Both of them were pregnant.

It was just the three of them. Amy had planned it that way. Invited her up to their room for a night-cap, except neither of them drank anything. In fact, they just looked at her, like they were both about to vomit. Glen narrowed her eyes and waited for the bomb to drop, fiddling with her cup.

“We’re pregnant.” Amy announced again.

Glen looked between Amy’s exhausted blue eyes to Andrea’s pale skin. They were waiting for her to respond. And who was Glen if not someone who responded exactly as people expected her to?

“How far along?”

“Uhm... maybe four months?”

Andrea piped up then. “Seventeen weeks... I did the math.”

So after the apocalypse. Way, way after. It was clear that they’d known about this for a while. Did they ever think about termination? Glen wondered, looking at them. Were they too far along when they pieced together the puzzle? Had they even considered it? Glen didn’t know - and she honestly didn’t have any idea of what was safe with pregnancies. And, well, this made everything pretty clear -

“Fucking hell,” Glen said, leaning her head against her hand. “Shane? Both of you with that piece of shit?”

Amy smiled, nervously. “Hey, now. That’s our baby-daddy you’re talking about.”

There was no heat to it. She was probably just as pissed at Shane as they both always were.

Glen looked between them again.

“Fucking hell.” She repeated. “Fuck. Who else knows?”

Amy shifted, and now that Glen was paying attention she’d seemed to have gained a little weight. A rarity, an anomaly. How hadn’t she seen this before? Sure, she had to actively look at their stomachs to see a bump, but she couldn’t have been that unobservant... could she have?

“Just you.” Amy confirmed her worst fears.

_ Oh that was not going to go. _

“Alright, lets go,” Glen said, rising to her feet as she knocked back her meager shot of alcohol. 

“What?” Andrea was suddenly way more animated than Glen had seen all week. All month. “Were not going anywhere.”

Glen glared at her. Unimpressed. She’d been hiding a pregnancy for who knows how long. Well, okay, fine fifteen weeks, but she meant it more as how long had they known and  **said** nothing!

“We’re going to talk to Herschel,” She told them. Not backing down. “He’s the closest thing we have to a doctor. And since you two are too bone headed to understand that being pregnant is going to suck seven different ways to sunday, on top of actively trying to survive when we have no clue what the fuck is coming our way - you’re coming with me.”

Andrea stared at her, eyes wide, still afraid.

Glen didn’t get why, not until Amy asked.

“You won’t tell Shane... will you?”

_ Ah. Yeah. No _ . Shane could go fuck himself for all she cared. And she said as much.

Which made Andrea relax, and by extension, Amy. 

“Alright, but we gotta keep this quiet, alright?”

Glen wanted to snap that there was no way they were going to be keeping anything quiet in a few months, with two squalling babies or in a few weeks when they started showing, but she kept her mouth - wisely - shut. Glen had a temper with the best of them, but even she knew when yelling and snarling worked. She also knew when it didn’t work. 

Leading them out into the hallway, she managed to corner Herschel by himself and lead them all into a room to talk.  _ Away _ from prying ears, to Andrea’s relief.

Hershel was just as shocked as Glen had been, but was quick to ask questions and assess the situation. Amy and Andrea answered what they could, and promised to keep better track of themselves for the old man who looked shocked with everything they had answered with. It all went over Glen’s head, but it seemed pretty serious. The vet then told them what kind of vitamins and prenatals they needed to get. What exactly needed to be scouted for.

Glen sat in the corner, listened, and wished she was anywhere else.

That night, she had curled up with Daryl and told him everything.  He didn’t speak a word until she was done.

“If it was going to be anyone, it would be fucking Shane.” He said.

Glen grinned in the darkness.

* * *

Then, after  **that** drama, everything was quiet. Until the next time, when it wasn’t. Surprisingly, at least to Glen, it lasted a long, long time. Almost two months.

* * *

“We’re running low on supplies.” Herschel reminded everyone one day. Glen, Maggie, and Maeve  were the only ones awake and in the kitchen. The girls all looked to the older man.

He’d started talking out of the blue about a month ago, with enough time in between the secret-pregnancy announcement that it was clear that hadn’t been the catalyst, and Glen honestly missed the quiet. Fondly she recalled when the only response she could get out of the man was a grunt. Now all he seemed to do was talk. Talk and offer advice and stick his nose into things that were already set in stone.

It made Beth and Maggie happy, at least.

“We’ve been low for a while now,” Glen nodded, exhausted. And it was true. Their crops were meager, and they canned nearly all of it. But fresh produce brought a smile to anyone’s face.

She had it on good authority, as well, that scouts were also looking for chickens.

Daryl and she had been going to scout what they could, read-between-the-lines every day, but they didn’t want to waste resources to go farther than necessary. The loss of the horses at the farm had really been the worst thing now that Glen considered it. Because all horses required was food to move, whereas cars required gasoline. One was much easier to find than the other now-a-days. It was a standing order to bring a horse in if they could. 

... Really any farm animal. Hell. Glen would kiss a goose if they found one.

“Daryl and I have exhausted every house around us. We’ve stripped it all.” Glen continued, sipping her cooling tea. “We’re going to have to go farther.”

Which meant danger. Which meant uncertainty. Which meant possible death.

Then again, what didn’t these days?

“... Any chance we can finally go back to the farm?” Maggie asked.

Glen opened her mouth to protest, before shutting it firmly.

_ Wait. _

It had been almost three months, the chance of the farm being clear was miniscule. Even after all this time. It had been overrun. The Walkers throng had been thick and fast moving. The farm had been completely overrun in a matter of minutes... but if it was... If it was safe. 

It was their best bet.

“You want to take that chance?” Glen asked instead.

Herschel protested immediately but Maggie straightened.

“You can’t - “

“Yes.”

Glen ignored Herschel, because she usually did, and stared at Maggie. 

“You want to go it alone?”

Maggie snorted. “I’m not an idiot. I’ll take... T-Dawg.”

Glen raised a brow, not seeing the appeal but nodded. Beth would have been better. She knew how to be quiet. A valuable, valuable skill to have. Amy or Andrea would have been better, but seeing as they were both about twenty-three weeks pregnant... no dice.

Which... well that was still not something fun to think about. Two women pregnant, about halfway through their pregnancies. Both  _ showing _ . If anybody cared to look closer, which nearly everyone did. It was the worst kept secret in the house. And Glen was pretty sure Rick and Shane did more than share a room. Not that she cared. If she did, she would have figured out what exactly their relationship was.

As it was, Rick had been apart of too many love-triangles for her to want to unearth another one.

“It’s all you then.”

Glen then proceeded to go back to her tea, acting oblivious to the glaring between father and daughter. Like they did every day. Maeve joined her, wearily watching what could be a brewing fight between the two.

* * *

To say that their life was better was an understatement, but to say that it was completely better... was a stretch. Glen felt, and believed Daryl felt as well, that the longer they stayed within the walls, the safer they felt, the dumber they all got.

Glen had only really seen growth, be it in strength or courage or loyalty or any number of things, happen when everyone was feeling the pressure to succeed and to grow. Without the danger and the push, they all just kind of sat around and did what was needed but no more.

It was aggravating. Especially Andrea and Amy. Glen had had high hopes for the both of them and was actually getting along with the older woman, before everything had gone to shit. When the farm had been overrun, and then Amy’s mysterious illness that cleared up but never really went away, both the woman had become secretive and quiet, especially around Shane and Herschel. Which lead to one simple thing; neither of them being in Glen’s good book. Not even the pregnancy reveal had been enough to not piss Glen off.

In fact, there were only three people in Glen’s good book. Beth, Rick, and Carol. The children were irrelevant in her displeasure of the adults, because they were precious little cinnamon rolls too good for this world. Carol and Rick were not on her poop list for the simple fact that they didn’t aggravate her or ask stupid questions every day. They also were not complete idiots to talk to. Nor had  _ either  _ of them kissed her without her permission.

Yes, Shane was on her shitlist. And he had been for the past month and a half.

Beth was in her good graces specifically because she wasn’t in her families. The girl had  _ grown _ . Not in stature or height or anything, but she was not what Glen had first assumed she was. And that was a little girl who needed to be protected. She still looked the part. What with big blue eyes, delicate features, and blond cornhusk hair. 

Yet she wasn’t.

She was an exploding star, with all the trappings of someone who should have been protected but simply wasn’t. And that created the creature she was now. Smiles and sunshine all while she knew four ways to gut you and cause the least amount of pain, because no matter how much she had changed, she still was kind.

And that, alone, was mind blowing for Glen to recognize.

* * *

Bruce and Beth were in the next door house, on kid duty. Carol and Rick only had a few houses left to go through (a self assigned task of taking everything useful from houses) and since the place was safe, everyone felt fine leaving their ‘future’ in the hands of Bruce, who everyone had basically written off.

The kids were both reading, leaving Bruce and Beth to either join in or talk.

They did a little of both.

Shane walked in to them talking about how to castrate a cow. Bruce looking pale as Beth described in detail the final bits. And Shane promptly walked back out.

* * *

The day, in all, had been pretty simple. Daryl always rose at least an hour before anyone else and returned in the same way. Maggie and T-Dawg returned after only making it a few minutes down the road, encountering a small hoard. So that had been a bust. Rick and Carol had found more sheets, kitchen ware, and a large bag of rice (something they had overlooked the first time). 

“We need something to turn up.” Shane said, aggravated as they all laid out how the day had gone. “The farms a bust. The houses are a bust. We need to send out a search party.”

“Cause  _ those _ work so well.” Glen said, sarcastically, chin in hand. 

“It’s necessary, Glen.” Shane said, glaring.

“I agree.” Rick said.

“You’re only agreeing because we saved your ass on our last and only group outing.” Glen snarled at Rick.

“.... Wait, that had been the only time you guys had gone out as a group?”

Glen rolled her eyes, nodding. “We usually go in twos. I have no clue who thought five was a good idea. Probably Shane.”

The man in question frowned, but didn’t deny it. It had been a while since anyone had thought on  **that** disaster. It probably had been his fault for demanding so many people be in Glen’s party. Nobody honestly remembered. Glen couldn’t remember past the pain of Merle’s loss.

She shoved those emotions away to live with Doug’s face.

“Huh. I really was an idiot.” Shane said after a moment.

“Yup.” Glen responded easily enough.

“Completely.” Daryl added, meaningfully.

“What about those warehouses on the north side,” Maeve said, suddenly. 

Glen frowned, trying to recall why they’d nixed them in the first place. “What about them?”

The blonde rolled her eyes -  _ Why had so many blonde people survived and managed to get into her group?  _ Glen wondered - “They’re probably chalk full of surprises. Food. Supplies. The whole kit and caboodle.”

Glen still couldn’t for her life recall why they’d nixed them in the first place. She asked the group as much.

“Too far away.” Shane said.

“Walker Horde in front.” T-Dawg muttered.

Beth frowned severely and offered. “Too high risk?”

Glen frowned. Walkers made sense, but too far away? Huh.

“Alright, how many should go?”

Maeve was quick to jump in. “I say five. Or six. We need drivers and help transporting, if we do find anything. This could be a big haul.”

Bruce and Maeve had been with their group for nearly two months. If they were going to betray them, this was a long con. Glen cocked her head and thought. Looking around at the hopeful faces, Glen drummed her fingers on the table-top. Everyone was holding their breath. This would be the biggest outing since... well, since forever. Glen wasn’t immune to everyone's excitement.

“Scout first. Hit next,” She told them. “I’ll go with someone to check it out. Then we’ll talk about it.”

* * *

Energy was high as Daryl and Glen left the next day. The warehouses were about two hours away, walking, so they left at first light, not wanting to waste a second. They drove, but they knew anything could happen, and leaving a car with half a tank of gas wasn’t too bad of a loss. It was their first outing in almost two weeks, though.

“Think there will be anything?” Glen asked as Daryl drove.

He grunted. 

_ Alright, no talking then. Got it loud and clear _ . Glen could respect that. She already respected the man above just about anyone else, alive, anyway. 

The drive was silent. Glen watching the passing scenery calmly. It was peaceful. Serene. Yet, those woods, housed monsters. Walkers. Biters. Geeks. Whatever anyone wanted to call them. Glen wasn’t about to complain because every single name fit. Walking Dead, she mused to herself, quietly, as they passed a few bodies on the side of the road.

“How far along are they?” Daryl asked, suddenly.

“Hmm?”

“Andrea.” He said, his voice all gruff and not-used. “Amy.”

“Ahh. Ya noticed, huh?”

Glen remembered telling him, but they didn’t talk about it. It wasn’t an immediate concern.

He gave her a look. “They look like they swallowed a cantaloupe. Each.” 

Which was true, but they were also carrying their babies pretty low (if that was the word). Glen had seen pregnant, fluffy women, but neither Amy nor Andrea fit that description. Their faces had filled a little, their joints swollen, but their bumps had stayed small and hidden. It helped that they had taken to wearing sports-bras, oversized t-shirts with the sleeves cut off. So their stomachs were never on display.

“They’re like... five months along, I think.”

Daryl gave her a startled look. “They’re more than halfway-done?”

Glen was intrigued. Why the sudden interrogation? This was the most Daryl had said in one sitting since their time at the barn, when they’d... well. Glen didn’t have a word for what they’d done. Cemented each other in their lives?

So Glen just nodded.

“... Shane huh.” He muttered to himself. “Fucking idjit.”

Privately, she agreed, but didn’t want to interrupt this sudden talking fit. So she just nodded.

But it seemed that was all she was going to get. So Glen tried to think of something to get him to continue talking.

“You pissed they didn’t use protection... or something else?”

Daryl didn’t look at her. Just tightened his hands on the steering wheel.

“Stupid of them.” 

Was all he said.

“I agree,” Glen nodded. “But then again, I think everyone’s stupid.”

His lips quirked and his hands unclenched. “Not me, though?”

Glen resolutely look forward, but her lips twitched. “Never,” She couldn’t help but comment.

From there, they didn’t speak another word.

* * *

That night after they’d given their report (yes, it was safe enough, minimal Walkers. Tons of trucks, too, that they could take that might even already be loaded. It was a-go. They just needed to plan a little) they laid in bed. Neither of them feeling sleep ready to take them.

Glen’s mind was still on what they had talked about. Daryl still didn’t seem settled. And they’d just exhausted themselves over the warehouses.

“What’s really bothering you about Amy and Andrea?” She said, her brain-to-mouth filter not working.

Daryl was silent. For a whole minute he didn’t say anything.

“That they can just... have a kid. No questions. No thinking. Just,” He huffed through his nose, an angry sound. He made an abortive motion with his arm, before turning to her. She scooted up on the pillow so they were eye to eye, front to front, curled away from each other to talk.

“I get it,” Glen said, and suddenly she did. “It’s fucked up they can make such a huge mistake and we all have to deal with it. That we’re gonna have to deal with two babies when we can barely manage  **us** ... That some people are gonna blame the kids.”

Daryl didn’t nod, but his mouth tightened, the skin around his eyes tightened. He was pissed. 

Glen reached forward, he fingers smoothing over his wrinkled skin. It didn’t budge under her fingertips, but Daryl didn’t seem to want comfort. He just wanted to be angry. Glen could let him have that.

“I was a mistake, you know,” Glen said, scootching over an inch. “It wasn’t really talked about. My parents... They already had two kids. For them... that was enough. I was just,” She smiled sardonically. “ _ Extra _ .”

Nobody had made it a point to make her feel that way in her family, but it was clear. To her. To anyone watching. To anyone not in the know. The cold shoulder. The dismissiveness. The anger when she’d not lived up to ‘expectations’. The calm but easy way she was forgotten, or forgiven (which was sometimes worse), or left alone.

“My pa was a drunk,” Daryl said, suddenly, reaching one arm out to pull her closer to him. Glen went willingly. “Ma went to jail for something. When she got out... she just never came back. It was just Merle and me. For as long as I can remember, it was just the two of us.”

Glen nodded, their foreheads pressing against each other. She slipped one arm in between the pillow and his neck, hugging him forward. He in turn tightened his arms around her, tugging her flush against his chest. They’d done this tons of times. This wasn’t anything special. This was... this was comfort.

Physical intimacy. Who would have thought this was how they’d comfort each other? The two people who would rather stand back, glare, aloof as the world burned around them. Nobody would believe that they could have this without sex. But both of them knew differently. 

Sex complicated things. Just look at Amy and Andrea.

“We’ll be alright.” Glen said, as she got comfortable enough to sleep.

She felt Daryl smirk against her shoulder. Then he murmured, “Just look at who’s extra now.”

Huffing a chuckle, ignoring that emptiness in her chest reserved for ‘family’, Glen kissed his temple. Both settled in.

Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

* * *

The group ended up being pretty large, over half of their group going. Carol, Hershel, Amy, and Beth stayed with the kids, Shane their protection - but everyone else packed up a scouting-bag. Glen tried to glare Andrea into not coming, but she snarled that she was  **fine** , and that she  _ could do this _ , and she wouldn’t be a  _ liability _ . Glen believed her less and less the more she talked. Still, stupid is as stupid does. So she rolled her eyes, but allowed the pregnant one to ride next to T-Dawg, who Glen was sure had figured out that Andrea was pregnant at least.

Everyone piled into one catering van, with Maeve driving and Daryl taking shotgun.  

It was silent the entire ride. The plan already outlined that morning at breakfast.

All that was left was execution.

* * *

A handful of decapitated and stabbed Walkers later, Glen was beginning to see the pros to working in a large group that actually  _ worked _ together. Nearly everyone knew their jobs, didn’t pull punches, and were silent to boot. Glen wanted to cry with how well they were all managing.

The only time they talked was when they were deciding what to take. Bruce and Andrea had gone to check which of the trucks were already full. It ended up being two of the bigger ones, a smaller semi, and then crate upon crate in the warehouse. Dividing and conquering was their best best.

“Food,” Glen pointed to Andrea, Bruce, T-Dawg, and Maeve. “Daryl, Rick, and I will see if we can tag things for pickup later.”

“Exit plan?” T-Dawg asked. 

He never failed to specify their exit-strategy. It was one thing Glen could count on him for.

“Rick will take the truck in dock B, Andrea will take the other one. The smaller one we can leave for when we come back at another time. The rest of us will pack up the van and meet up at home.”

The word tickled her mouth, and Glen grimaced. 

_ Home. Ew. _

Everything went just fine. Everyone looking for food, Rick and Andrea taking a moment to check the cabs for keys (for an easy getaway). Rick’s truck had a key, Andrea’s didn’t. T-Dawg said he’d hot-wire it, but in an emergency, Bruce could.

With a couple tons of food at their disposal, along with a variety of other things they’d found, Glen was feeling better than she had all week. This was a win. A clear, cut win. She even smiled, breathed deep, and tried to take it all in strides. Not choke on the heady feeling of a job well done.

Which is, of course, when things went seven-different ways to hell.

Glen promised herself, later, much much later, that she would never again count her chickens before they hatched.

* * *

There was a loud bang and everyone froze in place before jolting into action. Twisting every which way to see where the echoing noise had come from. It was a big warehouse, but they had scouted and closed exits and barred themselves in. Confusion set in a moment later as a rope snapped and everyone heard the sound of air whistling and hitting a large object as it fell. A whistle that was cut short a moment later with a  _ crack _ .

Andrea screamed, and then  _ that _ was cut short. Followed by a sound that echoed suspiciously like a splat.

Everyone had the same thought -  _ Walkers _ .

They all booked it.

“Fuck!” Someone shouted, hoarse.

Glen, wide-eyed, ran around the corner to see Bruce standing next to a fallen rifle staring at a piano that was absolutely destroyed. Smashed into itty bitty pieces. There were ropes all around it too, so Glen quickly deduced that it had fallen from the pulley-system it had been set into. Glen was short, so she wasn’t often looking up. Now she wished she had.

A set of legs and arms were poking out of the rubble, with a good sizable puddle of blood growing at their feet.

“What the hell did you do, Bruce?” Glen demanded, knowing that it was all his fault instinctively.

The big guy just stood, staring at the strange sight as if it wasn’t real.

“I didn’t mean to.” He sounded dazed, confused, conflicted.

Daryl rounded the corner next, with Rick in tow. Both sliding to a stop and staring quizzically at the scene in front of them. Maeve coming out of a stack of crates a moment after.

“Didn’t mean to what?” Glen asked getting closer to the carnage. “Kill a bunch of-” 

It clicked like a broken bone in Glen’s mind.

It hit her that the arms sticking out of the piano did not match the legs. Dark skinned with feminine jeaned legs. Like -

“ **Where’s Andrea and T-Dawg** ?”

_ Oh hell. _

“I didn’t mean to.” Bruce repeated.

Glen couldn’t imagine what she had missed. Nothing came to mind. A piano. T-Dawg. Andrea.

“What the  **hell** happened?” Glen demanded, and her voice was a lot smaller than she thought it should be.

“I - I dropped the gun,” Bruce stuttered slack-jawed and wide-eyed.  “It went off, and then the piano fell from the sky. And Andrea and T-Dawg were under it and now -” His voice warbled and tears formed in the corner of his eyes. “ **Now they’re dead!** ”

Glen stared. Then stared some more. Her mind tried to put two and two together but was drawing a blank. The big ginger blubbered for all he was worth. _ It was annoying, _ Glen thought dispassionately. Everything was annoying. Well. Actually, no not everything. Glen stepped closer and got a good look at the carnage. Bruce’s choked crying echoed in the big warehouse. The only sound. 

And then, it wasn’t. Then the silence, or lack thereof considering Bruce’s crying, was shattered.

Laughter bubbled out. 

Everyone looked at Glen like she was crazy, but she couldn’t stop.

“You killed -  _ snort _ \- T-dawg and -  _ hahahaha! _ \- Andrea with a- with a  **piano** ?” She asked between laughing fits.

Glen was doubled over, clutching her stomach as she let out a belly laugh.

There was no love lost for T-dawg, everyone knew that because of Merle, but Andrea - Everyone assumed she didn’t have any beef with. Which was true. Rick and Maeve watched her wearily, confused and worried. Daryl just re-slung his crossbow over his shoulder. Glen didn’t notice any of them. Lost as she was in her own mind and the picture in front of her.

The fact that a piano (A PIANO!), out of everything in this wacked out, horrible, bloody world had killed them? Not the undead? Not a rabid dog? Not the flu? Not those random ass-people who had attacked them?

A damn piano?

It was like something out of a movie. Glen knew it. She deserved a good laugh at that. Everyone did.

They just weren’t taking the opportunity for what it was.

Wasn’t Glen’s problem.

* * *

“She’s cracked.” Rick said, staring at what was sticking out of the piano. The remains of their group.

He felt ill. Crouching down next to them, he set a hand on Andrea’s rapidly cooling arm. She had died quickly, probably not even feeling it. Blood soaked the ground around them all. Sticking to everything. It was still spreading too, and if Rick didn’t move, it would soak his boots...

He didn’t move.

Maeve had corralled Bruce away from the hysterical Glen and was trying to calm him down. Where Glen was laughing, Bruce was crying. And crying a lot. He shook from the sobs as he collapsed into Maeve’s arms, against the wall. She shushed him, and pet his hair, eyes far away.

“Maybe,” Daryl said, walking towards the piano and kicking T-Dawgs arm. A little harder than what curiosity demanded. The limb rolled away as if it had been severed clean off. “Maybe we’re the crazy one’s.”

Rick didn’t think so. “Oh yeah?”

“Piano falls from the sky. Straight out of some cartoon,” Daryl elaborated, repositioned his crossbow over his shoulder. “ ‘is funny. If it wasn’t real life - everyone’d be laughing.”

Glen now sat on the ground, tears streaming down her face as she laughed, arms hugging her stomach as the once joyous sound turned into sobs, but she still had a smile on her face. Rick was plenty freaked out by it all, but didn’t dare go over and try to comfort her.

That was Daryl’s job, if he wanted it.

Daryl went to her.

Rick left what was left of the Dixon squad to their insanity and went to have a moment to himself. Alone in a corner where he could lament the lives of the man who had become as close to him as anyone else in the camp and the girl who had kept Shane sane, when they’d been in a relationship, anyway...

_ Shit. What were they going to tell Amy? What were they going to tell Shane?  _

* * *

Glen didn’t stop laughing for what seemed like hours. Her ribs hurt from the forcefulness her laughter had taken from her. She had no more liquid to expelled from her body through her eyes and overall she just felt exhausted. Curled around herself, she just stared at the bloody piano that had just taken their group down a few pegs in the world. Once they were twelve, now they were ten.

No. That wasn’t right. Andrea had been pregnant. They could have been thirteen. 

Daryl sat down next to her in a crouch.

“A piano.” She mused, a touch darker than she had all during the entire escapade.

“Ain’t too bad a way to go.”

“But a  **piano** , Daryl.”

“Yeah. Alright. It's a bad way to go.”

“I die like that, you have to laugh,” Glen told him, solemnly, grabbing his jacket lapels. “Got it?”

And that was when Daryl realized. In that moment, in that strangely long second, that he loved Glen. When she turned something as tragic and as hopeless as senseless death into a joke. When she looked at him, trusting that no matter what came out of his mouth, it would be as good a promise as any.

“Got it.” With lips twitching, he crossed his heart.

Glen reached out, her hand covering his over his heart. The thumping soothing to them both. They were close. Then again, they often were. But this... this was an intimate, side-by-side closeness, something that he hadn’t yet experienced outside the bedroom. Something new. He smiled softly, just for a second, at Glen. How was it that she always managed to surprise him? How was it she always managed to make him realize things about himself that nobody else could? That nobody else could ever know?

“A piano,” She muttered, her eyes still glittering, rimmed red. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder. “A damn fucking piano.”

The time for humor had passed her, it seemed. Daryl curled his free arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer, nearly into his lap. The mood quickly turned from tragic and somewhat humorous and also karmic to serious. Glen was always serious with him, even when she was amused or sad. Or depressive. Or numb. It was what he appreciated. Her level headedness and ability to delegate.

“What the fuck am I going to tell Amy?” 


	26. New beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And - this is the end. It's been fun!

Shane took it about how they thought he would. Stoney faced, quiet, and then he picked up a knife strapped to his leg and walked out the door. Glen could only assume he was going to the warehouse to see the body. None of them had been able to move the piano in a timely enough manner to salvage anything and the standing ‘order’ as it were was to get the hell out of dodge. So they did what they had had to do. They left them.

Amy, on the other hand, broke down into tears, holding her stomach. 

“No. Andrea. You.. you bitch, no!” 

Carol sat by her side and allowed the poor woman to cry into her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Amy,”

Amy barked a horrible laugh. “You fucker!” She screamed as she sobbed. “Leaving me all alone to deal with this, huh?”

Those remaining shared a look. It wasn’t long until Amy spilled the beans about everything.

She shared through her tears that she was pregnant. That Andrea had been pregnant as well. That the piano had killed a pregnant woman as well as the only black man in their group. Glen had already known. Had kept silent because it hadn’t been her secret to tell.

Everyone stared off to where Shane had walked off. Where the father had gone.

“Damnit.” Rick said, and it summed up everything that had happened quite well.

Glen was completely unsurprised to watch Rick stomp off after Shane, taking it upon himself to tell the man what had just been shared. It was such a Rick move... Glen still appreciated it. Dealing with Shane was like dealing with lit fireworks.

* * *

Rick and Shane didn’t come back for three days. Carl asked about his dad and Shane every day but nobody had an answer. At least, not until they did.

The two ex-law-enforcement came in the dead of night, scaring the sentinels of the night,  Maeve  and Carol,  shitless as they appeared as if ghosts. As if summoned. Neither of the women screamed, but it was a near miss. 

“Rick?” Meave asked.

Neither man spoke, their eyes tired and red rimmed. Still, their silence spoke for them.

“Got it.” Carol said, with a nod, settled back in for the night. “Try and warn us next time? Hmm?”

After that, it was back to normal. A little quieter, a little more somber as everyone tried to deal with having two less people, two less mouths to feed, four less hands to help. But soon enough, the loss was pushed away, back into the deepest parts of the collective psyche, as the world continued to spin.

The sun rose in the morning. Set in the evening. There was still laughter. Still children. Walkers still showed up outside their walls every few days in groups or by their lonesome.

Life went on.

* * *

As everything happens, it happened in threes. First Andrea and T-Dawgs death, then knowledge of Amy being pregnant (and that making so much sense to everyone as they learned about it), and finally: three strangers showing up. These three unlike Maeve and Bruce found them. Or, more accurately, found Glen and Daryl on their way back from a short walk.

They were about ten, fifteen minutes out when Daryl stiffen like a hound. With short, clipped movements he jerked his crossbow up and stared off into the forest. Glen said nothing, just took a step closer, and pirouetted on her heel to have his back. She unlatched her knife from her thigh and stood, waiting.

All was silent.

Their awareness was rewarded a moment later when a shuffling to Daryl’s left, nearly right in front of Glen caught their attention. The bushes moved and out came a black man. He looked nothing like T-Dawg, and that was nearly enough for Glen to want to get to know him. 

_ Not a Walker _ , Glen thought with a mixed bag of emotions. 

Relief, but also unease. 

_ Humans were sometimes... worse. _

The man was too far away to really get a good look at, but he looked like he had seen better days. His clothes were torn and raggedy, he had a scruffy beanie on, and Glen caught a glimpse of blood on the sleeves. Though the blood on his sleeves was minimal. So Walkers, not his own. No bite marks, that she could see either. And he held a machete easily in his hand.

Nobody spoke. Everyone just observed each other. It was a tense atmosphere.

“Hey,” The man said, in greeting, his weapon unwavering.

Daryl was the one who spoke. “What’cha want?”

“... To talk. Nothing more,” The man claimed. He had a rather reasonable voice. Calm. Like he had worked in hostage negotiation. “Haven’t seen anybody else for a while now.”

Neither of them said anything to that.

_ What was there to say? _

The man sighed.

“Listen,” He lowered his weapon fully now. A stupid move. If Glen and Daryl were any worse people, she would have taken him for that alone. But. They weren’t. They were good people. And the man was showing that he could still be human. Something in short, short supply.

Glen shifted uncomfortably as he continued talking. 

“I don’t want no trouble. It’s just me and my family.  We’ve been on the road a long time... we’re tired.”

_ Well damn. _ Family’s didn’t last long. And Glen was curious now - 

“Family?” She asked, well aware of how Daryl stiffened, his breathing stopped, but then he was back to an immovable, breathing force. Human but as unfeeling as they come. 

The man nodded. 

“Lost my wife in the beginning of all this. All I’ve got is my daughter, and her... boyfriend.”

Glen cocked her head, watching him. He didn’t twitch. He’s been out in the world for too long to twitch. He was like Daryl, a little, not many people were like Daryl, but there was something Rick in him, too. Maybe it was the way he talked, reasonable like things like words could make things better; maybe it was the way he had a family, maybe it was the way he held himself - tall, shoulders slightly slumped, weary. 

Whatever it was, the vibe wasn’t bad. Glen was still learning, she wasn’t perfect, but she got it. Reading people was easy, when she watched and tried to figure them out, but she had yet to meet anyone truly bad. So, it stood to reason, the more people she met, the better she’d get at this.

Reaching forward, Glen drummed her fingers on Daryl’s shoulder. He dropped the crossbow and straightened.

It took the man a moment, but he caught on. The man saw that for what it was, who was leader, and quickly switched his attention to Glen.

“Where’s your daughter?” Glen asked, flicking her eyes over behind him.

“Julie. Chris.” He called, behind him. Too quickly, honestly. Fortunately for him, it was more endearing than troubling. He’d brought his family, kept them close.

He was either desperate, stupid, or had a plan. Glen was beginning to think it might be all three.

From the bushes came a young black woman, trailed by a kid who looked almost native-american. They looked the part of being out in the wild world for the past few months. Glen made sure to watch closely for any kind of tells, kids would give away the game faster than an adult, but they were just normal people. Just trying to survive.

As normal as people can be, anyway.

“I’m Glen.” She introduced herself, waiting for the mystery man to follow her lead.

“Tyreese.” He looked nearly relieved, but not quite. He didn’t want to hope or dream of this meeting being anything more than a near-death experience.

Glen waited a moment longer, really mulled over her decision, before patting Daryl once on the shoulder.

_ Let’s go. _

“Follow us,” She said, and walked off. The sound of Daryl’s feet following her, just before he veered off the path into the woods. He’d keep an eye on them from far enough away that he’d done them before they touched her. It worked on Walkers.

Tyreese audibly hesitated, but ushered his brood forward. 

“What’s going on, Dad?” Julie, the daughter, asked in a low whisper. In a quiet forest, it echoed. “Who are these people?”

“I don’t know... maybe they got a place.”

“Why are we just following them - “

“Shh, Jules, let's see where this leads.”

_ Poor bastard. Still so trusting, believing in humanity _ . Glen was almost sorry she was going to be proving him right. He was a weird mix of Rick-hopeful, and still alive.  Rick shouldn’t be alive. Glen knew that, because she had been the one to save him. Ugh. 

_ Did she have a saving people thing? _

Glen thought about that for a moment, looking over her shoulder to the three people following her, wearily, but keeping pace. She remembered Sophia, and Carl. Rick, and Beth. Saving people was the only other option to killing them.

_ Of course she had a saving people thing. _

* * *

This time, instead of just weary distrust and constant supervision, like with Bruce and Mauve, they had a plan. For bringing people back. Rick stepped forward. He had been watching from the lookout point and seen them coming first, had alerted everyone, even got Amy to take his position; and he greeted them when they walked towards the house.

Shane was behind the strangers, on the porch next door, and they had yet to notice him. Carol and Hershel were inside with the kids, keeping them quiet, but everyone else was on the porch with Rick. Watching. For people who had been in a forest for god-knew how long, it might be a little overwhelming. And it was. Glen could see it.

There was only so much you could script, but Glen secretly thought it was better this way.

“Who’re these people?” Rick asked. With that calm ease of an officer who knew he was going to get an answer.

Glen grinned at him in amusement, seeing Rick act the part of leader was just so.... Weird, but she quickly stifled it, before jerking her thumb over her shoulder. She had a part to play, after all.

“Couple of travelers. A family,”

Rick was quiet as he observed the three people following Daryl and Glen. The elder man was quick to greet everyone he hadn’t met.

“I’m Tyreese,” He gestured to his daughter as he pulled her close. “This is my daughter, Julie, and her boyfriend, Chris.”

The two teenagers were stiff and awkward. There was an element of unease in their shoulders. Which Tyreese didn’t share. The man stood tall, hands at his side, as he watched. 

Glen wasn’t impressed, she honestly wasn’t, but she had to give the guy credit where credit was due.

“Got a couple questions for you,” Rick said, instead of introducing himself. He stepped off the porch.

Now, everyone had gotten together one night, when they still hadn’t trusted Bruce or  Maeve , and had come up with three questions to ask people who might join their community. Nobody had argued that they wouldn’t let people in, because that was stupid to turn away talent and useful skills just because the world was a shit-show. No. Instead they had been productive. They had come up with three questions, and what to do with each answer.

Tyreese was quick, though, to tell Rick. “Ask.”

**“How many walkers have you  have you killed?”** Rick asked, walking closer to Glen, never letting his eyes drift from the strangers. 

This one was easy. Depending on who they had at the introduction, the question was to gain knowledge about the people. How they reacted. If they corrected them on ‘killed’, word usage, flinches, body movements that could be nervous or skittish.

It was a simple question, but it told them all, each and every one who listened, more information than the people being interrogated probably thought.

All of them fidget, but were quick to respond. 

“Nineteen,” Julie said first. “I don’t know. A lot.” Chris had answered after. “Lost track after the tenth.”

Nobody said anything, just mulled that over.

**“How many people have you killed?“** Was the next question.

This one, Rick claimed, would tell a lot about a person. Glen was waiting to see just how.

Julie and Chris both shook their heads, eyes to the ground. But Tyreese’s eyes went steel and everyone perked up, waiting for his words. 

“Just one. A man. Months ago.”

**“Why?”**

And the follow up question. Which would force them to relieve the moment of that oh-so-human death. The question that prompted a murder into answering if they had killed, if they would kill, and what they were willing to do.

Shaking his head, as if to shake away the bad memory, Tyreese didn’t hesitate to tell them the truth, or his truth. “He threatened us. I had no choice.”

Nobody responded verbally. Just nodded. Rick looked as if he were pondering something over, but in reality, he was giving Glenn a few minutes to mull over her decision. It was nice of him, but unnecessary. She liked these strangers. Well. Tyreese, at least. The two others were children, and she liked children mostly, as long as they actually tried to survive. 

With a nod that had everyone relaxing, Glen and Daryl made their way to the porch.

“Well then,” She said, turning around and stopping on the same step Rick was on. “Welcome to our community.”

* * *

Bruce and Maeve, along with the three strangers, all moved into the house next door. It was necessary, and also a relief, to nearly everyone. The eight originals (as Glen liked to call them in the innermost recesses of her brain), were still in the same house, and comfortable there. But with five more people, it was clear it was time to grow.

That excited nearly everyone. 

Guard shifts were unchanged, except it now included a bridge between the two houses. Many things were unchanged. Which didn’t settle well with Glen, but she couldn’t put her finger on why. She was sure if she were outside the walls, breathing that dangerous but free air, she would be able to figure it out... but for now - well, she had to settle for sitting on the porch and trying to muddle through.  _ Safe _ .

Sophia came over and plopped next to her.

“Do you know anything about Poison Ivy?”

Glen had to blink. The kids generally stayed away from her. Or... maybe it was the opposite. She stayed away from the kids. She wasn’t sure. All she knew was she didn’t have much one-on-one interaction with them. But the kid has asked a question and Glen had an answer.

“It’s got three leaves, red on the stalk, and if you're allergic it itches. Why?”

Sophia nodded, solemnly. “Carl got into some. His dad said it can spread if I touch it.”

Glen wasn’t sure if Sophia was here just for comfort, someone to talk to, or she was feeling left out; but Glen didn’t really care either. A distraction was a distraction. And after two (three) deaths, she was on shaky ground, trying to reform the world around her.

“What have you and Carl been learning about?” 

_ That was a safe question right? _

It turned out to be a perfectly safe question as Sophia’s eyes lit up and she went into a spiel about corn and cabbages and rabbits and ‘did you know, Miss Glen, that spiders are scared of people?’ all given with a cute breathless smile and bright eyes. It was innocent. It was pure. Glen had forgotten people could look at the world with such wonder and such excitement.

Glen felt her day go from awful to decent in a matter of minutes as she listened to the girl get more and more breathless as she tried to fit so many words into a sentence. 

“And bees are scared of us too, but they are really nice too, cause they make honey, and honey is really good and - “

“Sophia!” 

Glen and Sophia both turned to see Carol on the other porch, hands on hips and an exasperated look on her face.  

“You gotta tell me when you leave the house, honey!” Carol called again, though not very loudly. Everything just echoed in their small part of the world. 

“Sorry Mama!” Sophia called right back before turning to Glen. “I gotta go back in the house. Wanna come see my drawings?”

Weighing sitting alone versus being entertained by an exuberant child, Glen got up and followed: it wasn't even a question. The leader even allowed the child to grab her hand and pull her along with excited little-thoughts spouting between them.

“And corn is good but I like broccoli better.”

“And don’t tell Carl, but I think his face is cute, but like a puppy kind of cute, you know?”

Glen did know, and she gave the girl a smile as she was dragged bodily into the house, past an amused Carol.

Carol thought Sophia was good for the woman, but she kept that to herself. Glen could get prickly about things like that. Probably thought it was a weakness, or at least was a weakness to admit it. Heaven forbid the woman sat and stopped for a second. 

The world could wait, after all.

And it did.

This time.

[LA FIN]

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. This has been a BEAST of a story. I have yet to decide if I am going to write more in this world, but if I do I have a lot of plot points already laid out. Such as: Amy’s pregnancy, Shane and Rick and Carl being a family, and also you know, the shit that happens in a Walker filled world - especially following along with the show and what not.
> 
>  


End file.
